


Unchained

by LadyKenz347



Series: Unchained [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heartbreak, Jealousy, Love Triangles, Might add more tags later, No Battle of Hogwarts, Smut, War, did i mention the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 23:25:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 126,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: War is no place to fall in love.





	1. One

**A/N: Hello!! I’m ready to sink into another WIP and I’ve got a few chapters stocked up so I thought it was time to share with you!**

 

**_IMPORTANT:_ ** **This is a love triangle. There will be side pairings and angst and jealousy and lots of other things that go along with such a situation. So please be aware of that before jumping in. If you have any specific questions about something that might trigger you in regards to the trope, my inbox and Tumblr Ask is always open!**

 

**_EXTRA IMPORTANT:_ ** **This plot is inspired by a well-known feature film. Think big blockbuster! The thing is, I’m not going to tell you which one until it’s painfully obvious. You know… spoilers and such. But, if you have a guess I’d love to hear it!**

 

**Without further adieu. Enjoy!**

 

XXXXX

Hermione stepped onto the rickety porch, cradling a cup of tea that desperately needed a warming charm. Leaning over the railing, which was probably not the best idea, she stared across the rocky ledge, inspecting the rolling hills below. 

 

Surrounding the other three sides of the safe house were sparse woods; the trunks of the trees were thin and their branches didn’t begin for a dozen or so feet. It offered her a semblance of open space, although she was, for all intents and purposes, trapped. 

 

Bringing the teacup to her lips, she winced at the bitter taste and swore, for the hundredth time, that she was going to request some damn sugar from Headquarters. She could live without many things, she’d found, but sugar in her tea just wasn’t one of them. 

 

A gust of wind swept through the forest and she shivered as colorful, crunchy leaves floated down towards the earth. 

 

September. 

 

September was _her_ month. Not only was it her birthday month, which felt inconsequential in the wake of the summer, but it was a month for new school supplies and fresh leather-bound books. September meant Hogsmeade and the Gryffindor Common Room and hot cider on brisk mornings.

 

But not anymore. 

 

Nothing was the same anymore. 

 

Last she heard, Ron and Harry were near Wales. She’d been warned that some of the information they sent might not be correct, in case it was intercepted—so really, she had no idea where they were. That part hurt more than the rest. 

 

They were due back at Grimmauld soon enough, by the month’s end… maybe next. 

 

Directly following Dumbledore’s death, the few easily accessible Order members were gathered, and a hasty game plan set in motion. Harry and Ron had been tasked with Horcrux hunting; Moody was insistent that only two of them traipse off into the wilderness alone. The Order’s numbers were abysmal, reinforced by a failing Auror system and a few vigilante groups with little resources and even fewer fighters. 

 

So when Harry’s eyes flickered between Hermione and Ron, unsure whom to ask, Hermione volunteered to stay behind and help with the war effort. It wouldn’t be long, just the summer, she’d been reassured. Enough time to stock and ward the safe houses, train some recruits, and organize things at Headquarters. 

 

She was nearly done with that now, and the next time Harry and Ron returned, she’d be going with them. Thank Merlin, Morgana, and all four founders for that. Too many more quiet nights in these safe houses and she was sure she’d go crazy. 

 

Hermione had been a part of the team to set up the safe houses. Setting up a network of Floo’s, cleaning them up, transfiguring furniture into usable beds, and establishing a small medi-center at each one. 

 

The Surrey safe house, where she was now, was by far the most dilapidated. No one came here unless it was an absolute emergency and even then, if you could make it to Canterbury… you probably should. 

 

But it was her baby. No one else seemed all too fond of it, what with the crumbling roof and leaking pipes, not to mention the smell – the distinct musk of wet, rotting wood. 

 

But Merlin, the views. Nothing beat it. Even if there was no sugar and the tea was stale. 

 

The sound of branches snapping above Hermione’s head made her grin widen as she took a final sip of tea before setting it to the side, bracing herself for impact. 

 

Moments later, the clumsy flight of Gofer, the long-eared grey owl that could barely manage a flight across the lawn, came into view. 

 

He was the most peculiar bird. His feathers stuck up drastically on either side of his face and his eyes were severe and golden yellow. If he were a human, he’d be Alastor Moody. Glowering at all of them with a critical eye. She swore Gofer’s very gaze screamed, “CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” and that’s what made his extreme discoordination all the more hysterical. 

 

The bird swept down, wings even and strong, and a determined set to his eyes until the wind clipped his wing and he toppled onto the porch with a thud, a parcel slipping from his beak and knocking into her ankles. 

 

Her fingers flew up to stifle her giggle as he popped up, ruffling his feathers and looking around the area suspiciously. Tiny feet hopped towards her as he gave a low _hoot_ , alerting her that he was, indeed, fine. 

 

“Thanks, Gofer,” Hermione said, squatting down to pet the top of his head. For all of his severe characteristics, he couldn’t help but receive a good pet. His ears folded down and he pressed his head into her hand before returning to his business like stature. “Tell HQ I say thanks.” She jerked her chin towards the miniature parcel and gave him a wink. “Fly safe.” 

 

Gofer ducked his head, spreading his wings wide before taking flight, catching only two branches on his exit. 

 

Hermione watched him until he disappeared on the horizon, before plucking the minature box from the porch and returning inside. 

 

The walls of the safe house were made of thin planks of wood, so she supposed cabin would be a more appropriate term for the space. The wood-burning fireplace in the corner gave off  little heat to the surrounding lumpy furniture and barely any at all to the adjacent kitchenette. And despite the grandeur of Bristol house and the comfort of Canterbury, this is the place that felt the most like home. 

 

She placed the box down and snagged her wand from her waistband, waving it over the parcel and casting ‘ _Finite’._ The box quickly grew to its normal size, standing almost to her waist, and she pried the top open easily.

 

Inside was the normal supply delivery: canned goods, dried meat—some fresh, but not much—boxes of non-perishables, and… Hermione nearly gasped when her fingers closed around a bottle of red wine. It was probably worth a handful of knuts, but these days, it was a luxury. 

 

Below the food were various sets of clothing, both male and female, as well as toiletries for anyone stuck in the safe house, and she immediately took them to the dressers and single bath at the end of the hall. 

 

There were only two rooms, making it the smallest of all the Order safe houses. The one to the left boasted two sets of bunk beds, while the one to the right had two full size beds. At any given time, nine to ten fighters could be lodging here. 

 

But most nights, it was only her. 

 

The war had been relatively quiet thus far. Dumbledore’s death had silenced everything, or so it seemed. 

 

Truthfully, the Order had gone underground for war preparation. There were now strategists, field fighters, and resources stock piled. Safe houses were littered all around London, in Surrey, Bristol, Canterbury, and Sussex. Not to mention the half a dozen up near Scotland and Wales. 

 

The heart of the campaign would be the Golden Trio. Well, once the third part of the trio could be reunited with the other two parts, that is. They had one mission, to hunt down the remaining Horcruxes and more importantly, find a way to destroy them. 

 

Hermione only needed to remind herself that the time was coming. A few more weeks, maybe a month, left of this, and she’d be out there again. It was just a matter of time. 

 

XXXXX

 

The following week Hermione found herself dropping off excess supplies to Canterbury house. They had sent an abundance to Surrey, far more than necessary, and while she could always rely on Gofer to get the job done, as sloppy as it may be, she also liked to make the rounds to check on the other houses. 

 

With her canvas duffle slung over her shoulder, she stepped over the threshold of the large home. She waited for the onslaught of noise, inevitable as it was, and her nose wrinkled until she heard the riotous shouting coming from the kitchen. With a knowing grin, she turned towards it. 

 

Canterbury house was much nicer than Surrey. The land was far flatter and it had a somewhat working farm out back. There were nearly three times as many rooms and an additional living space that could easily house extra bodies and for that reason, it was always full. 

 

The space was bright and clean; large farm windows covered nearly every wall (which had been a complete pain in her arse to ward, might she add). 

 

As Hermione stepped through the wide arc of the kitchen from the hall, her grin faded, a scowl taking its place. 

 

Seamus and Dean were there, and Luna lounged by the window, curled between Neville’s thighs as he read a book over her shoulder. However, none of these sights were what caused her distress. 

 

It was Malfoy, leaning smugly along the counter, Theo Nott at his flank. Seamus was doubled over in laughter, explaining something or other to Malfoy whose signature smirk waned upon laying eyes on her. 

 

He coughed into his hand, straightening his spine as he jerked a brow in her direction and the rest of the room noticed her for the first time. 

 

“Hi, Hermione,” Seamus greeted quickly, turning back to his conversation with Draco, his face red from the exertion of his laughter. 

 

“Seamus. Dean.” She nodded, laying the duffle on the counter. “Surrey got—”

 

“Hi, Hermione!” Luna interrupted brightly, her eyes wide and fingers tickling the air. 

 

Hermione chuckled, her eyes crinkling as she waved back. “Hi, Luna. Anyway, Surrey got a surplus of supplies so I thought I’d drop them by. See how things are faring over here.” 

 

Unzipping the bag, Dean let his sandwich hang from his teeth for a moment as he peered inside. “I don’t know why you stay out there,” he mused, snatching the sandwich from his mouth and swallowing his bite. “You know, there’s room to spare here. Bristol even more so.” 

 

Her eyes flickered to the pair of “reformed” Slytherins lounging a few feet away and grimaced. “It’s quiet there.” Flinching as another boisterous laugh boomed from Seamus’ chest, she rolled her eyes. “I brought most of the fresh goods here, they won’t last in Surrey.”

 

“Staying the night, Hermione?” Seamus managed as he wiped tears from his blushed cheeks. 

 

Her lips quirked up in a half smile. “Thinking about it. I was just gonna check out the infirmary. Poppy wants a list of supplies that need to be stocked.”

 

In the corner, Neville disentangled himself from Luna and approached the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Did you get the missive?” Neville leaned over the tile with a low brow. “I think something big is happening—and soon.”

 

Her eyes again flickered to the pair by the counter and she gulped. “I did. I’ll be at Grimmauld for the meeting.” She coughed into her fist and gave Neville a tight smile. “I think I need some air.”

 

As she passed Luna, her friend lifted her fingers and reached for Hermione’s, squeezing once before Hermione stepped through the backdoor. She sucked a greedy breath through her teeth as she stared at the flat farm lands in front of her, relishing in the burn of the cold air in her throat.  

 

It’d been months since the pair of snakes had come slithering around. And although it had been tense during the early weeks, most of the Order seemed to have since let them acclimate into the folds. 

 

Hermione didn’t have such an easy time. 

 

The night of Dumbledore’s death, Malfoy had apparently confessed. Dropped his wand and begged for clemency. Dumbledore gave him a single word, a word she still didn’t know, and that was all he needed to be embraced by the Order. 

 

None of it really made sense to her, but even in death, the Order followed Dumbledore. It wasn’t her place to question the moves, just to play her role until Harry and Ron returned. 

 

The door creaked open behind her and she stiffened, her jaw tightening as she peeked over her shoulder. 

 

Just Luna. 

 

“Hello there,” she smiled, weaving her arm through the crook of Hermione’s elbow. “Sickle for your thoughts?” 

 

Hermione stared at the changing leaves of the trees on the horizon and her lips folded together. “Things feel like they’re changing, don’t they?” 

 

“They always do in Autumn.” Luna’s clear blue eyes sparkled up at her and Hermione returned the smile. “In Greek mythology, the September equinox was quite the affair.”

 

“Oh?” Hermione sighed, a chuckle slightly shaking her shoulders. 

 

“When she ascended from the Underworld, she brought with her spring and summer, but when the Autumn solstice came, she returned to her husband.”

 

Hermione nodded along, unable to draw whatever connection she was supposed to from Luna’s musings. Her friend was clever, far more clever than most people gave her credit for, but that didn’t mean that Hermione understood the half of it. 

 

“Feels that way, doesn’t it? We were living in the darkness for so long. Then we had this small reprieve the last few months.” Luna levied a tired sigh. “I’m scared we’re due back to the Underworld... I don’t think we can ignore the call much longer.” 

 

A shiver crawled up Hermione’s spine and pressure prickled at her sinuses. “I hope we’re ready, Luna.” 

 

Luna’s tightened her embrace, resting her temple on Hermione’s shoulder. “I don’t think we have much choice, I’m afraid.” 

 

XXXXX

 

She stayed at Canterbury that night. _Stayed._ She didn’t sleep, not really. And once the door creaked open and the quiet steps of Malfoy and Theo sounded, falling into the bunk beds across the room, she sure as hell didn’t rest. 

 

As soon as the sun broke over the horizon she was out of bed, her overnight bag slung over her shoulder. This is exactly the reason she preferred Surrey house. Very few surprise visits. 

 

Back in the kitchen, she pulled out a muffin and warmed it. Butter and preserves were in the ice box, but Hermione felt guilty claiming any and instead ate it dry. Plopping onto the counter stool, she pulled a book on advanced defensive magic from her bag. 

 

Hermione had made it a peaceful three pages before she heard stomping down the wooden stairs. Her gaze fluttered towards the door frame and when Malfoy strolled in, still tugging his t-shirt over his torso, she froze, her spine straightening and jaw clenching. 

 

“You’re up early, Granger,” he smirked, plucking an apple from the counter. He didn’t wash it, didn’t bite it. Just tossed it back and forth, watching its slow arc from hand to hand. 

 

“Yes,” she clipped. “As are you.” She returned her attention to her book, determined not to be distracted by him. 

 

For as undeniably handsome as Malfoy was, he was equally as aware of his handsomeness. It was infuriating. He was also smug, pernicious, and condescendingly clever. She didn’t trust him, not as far as she could throw him, and Hermione Granger could boast of many things, but brute strength was simply not one of them. 

 

“Ready for the meeting?” Malfoy leaned over the counter, his pale forearms resting on the ivory tiles and Hermione’s eyes widened at his sudden proximity. 

 

“Yes.”

 

He chuckled, tossing the apple in the air again and snatching it quickly from its trajectory like a snitch. “I thought you knew words longer than a single syllable. Or is it just me? Do I render you speechless, Granger?”

 

Hermione’s jaw fell open with an audible pop, her eyes narrowing at the presumptuous little prick and she swore there was a jinx playing on her tongue that begged to be spoken. 

 

“Did it occur to you that I just don’t like speaking to you?” she asked brusquely, her lips pursing into a tight frown. 

 

“You see, it did… but then I reckoned that was unlikely. Unbelievable. Unfathomable. Improbable. Inconceivable. Preposterous, even.” His lips pulled into a wicked, taunting smirk and Hermione wanted nothing more than to smack him… just one more time. It was an itch that desperately demanded to be scratched and with just one flick of her wrist—

 

“Did you want me to continue? I’m a veritable _trove_ of words containing more than one syllable. Maybe I could give you a lesson or two.”

 

“You’re a cretin, Malfoy.” Hermione slammed her book shut and shoved it back in her bag. 

 

“ _Oh hoh oh_ !” Malfoy huffed happily. “Two syllables. Don’t stress it, Granger. I don’t think you’re at risk of losing any of your many accolades as brightest witch of _whatever the fuck_ anytime soon. It’ll be our little secret.”

 

She swore she had every intention of walking out the door and to the Apparition point. But whenever he spoke, it grated against her carefully tuned patience until she snapped, and she crossed the distance between them, jamming her forefinger into his sternum. 

 

“What is your problem with me, Malfoy? What is it that gives you such a hard-on for riling me up? I don’t bother you, don’t mention your name. You’re nothing to me. So why? Why do we have to have these little altercations every time I come around?”

 

The fine lines around Malfoy’s eyes crinkled as he stepped dangerously towards her, and despite her best efforts, she took a quick step back. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm. As I see it, you’ve got a broomstick shoved far up your arse that I’m surprised you’re able to stand upright. Maybe all you need is to loosen up—” His lashes flitted closed in a quick wink while his gaze settled on her lips. 

 

It was Hermione’s turn to step into his space and a smug smirk worked its way onto his lips until he bumped into the counter behind him. “My arse and any squirming it does are of no concern to you, Malfoy. I appreciate the lookout, but perhaps you should focus on undoing some of the mess you created for us last Spring.”  

 

Malfoy flinched away from her words, huffing an indignant little breath and brushing his tongue over his perfect teeth. “Guess you know everything then, Granger.” 

 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she retorted, her brow inching up towards her hairline as she breathed heavily in his space. “See you at Grimmauld, prat.” 

 

Hermione snatched her bag from the counter and stormed from the kitchen, ignoring the sound of his teeth cutting through the skin of his unwashed apple.  

 

XXXXX

 

**A/N: Biggest of thanks to my Alpha and Beta: MCal and In Dreams. I’m so lucky to know such talented women who want to work with me and help me grow! Hope you enjoyed chapter 1 and I look forward to bringing some more updates to you soon! For now you can expect weekly updates, but once my chappie bank is nice and stocked, I’ll return to my regular update schedule. (Once I finish drafting a chapter, I’ll post the next!)**

 

**You’ll notice a second piece in this collection shortly. You can consider it an appendix of sorts. I’ll be posting aesthetics and fan casts pertaining to the story there as well as on my Tumblr (Ladykenz347).**

 

**Your reviews make my muse sing and for that I’m eternally grateful. If you have time to let me know what you think, I’d jump up and down and send sweet sugary internet kisses your way.**

  



	2. Two

* * *

**FOR MY DEAR FRIEND VANESSA N.**

**You will never know how much your support and enthusiasm encouraged me in my writing. Thank you endlessly. This story is the last thing we talked about and I hope that wherever you are, you get to read the ending. I will cherish those final messages and this entire story is dedicated to you and the light you brought the fandom. Fly high, dear one.**

* * *

 

  
  
  


The dining room at Grimmauld was packed, with some familiar faces—but mostly new ones. Every member of Dumbledore’s Army, save for Harry and Ron, were present, and they clumped together towards the dining table as the older witches and wizards gathered in the back, their tense glares flittering over the younger crowd. 

 

Hermione didn’t have to be a Legilimens. She knew exactly what they were thinking. 

 

Here these grown adults had signed up for a war when most of them were barely of legal age to wield magic outside of Hogwarts. This older generation didn’t know what they’d all been through to sit at this table. They had no idea what they’d already seen by seventeen.

 

Unable to stomach looking at the weary and disappointed faces near the back of the room, her gaze floated towards Malfoy and Theo, huddled near the door, surveying the room silently. Malfoy tilted his chin towards his friend, whispering something that made Theo’s lip curl with a quiet chuckle. She tried her best not to let her focus rest there, but she couldn’t help it. It didn’t matter how long a snake slept in your home—it was still a snake. 

 

Ginny slid through the crowd, finding a spot next to Hermione and offering her a small smile.  _ Poor Gin _ . The thin skin under her eyes was a specific shade of purple that Hermione recognized and she must have lost a stone in the last months. 

 

She wrapped her arm around her bony frame, pulling her friend closer as she rested her chin on Ginny’s shoulder. The pain Ginny was feeling was familiar, but altogether foreign at the same time. Hermione didn’t love anyone—never really had. At least, not like that. She didn’t know what it was like to exist with your heart outside your body like that. 

 

The sound of the back door slamming open caused them all to jump and Hermione cursed under her breath as Moody, flanked by Shacklebolt and Lupin, strode in. 

 

“Evening,” Moody grumbled, his lip curling in disdain at the lot of them. She had no reason to be nervous, but every time that blasted eye spanned the room she felt a flutter in her chest. 

 

“Good evening.” Lupin smiled warmly, placing a hand on Mad-Eye’s shoulder and taking a step forward. “For those of you who’ve been hard at work this summer, the Order thanks you. Nothing can truly prepare us for the months to come, but your attentiveness brings us one step closer.”

 

“Lovely, Remus,” Moody said with a growl, his peg leg stomping. “Let’s get on with it.”

 

Lupin chuckled with an amused roll of his eyes as he waved his wand at the large blank wall behind him. A map materialized, red pins marking the safe houses, and black X’s scattered. “These here are your safe houses.” Lupin gestured towards the red pins. “We’ve had a team working non-stop these past weeks warding and preparing them for use. For those of you not going completely underground, we encourage you to stay in your homes as long as you're comfortable. However, make sure you’re well acquainted enough with their locations to Apparate. Practice making the jump beforehand.”

 

“These—” Moody used his walking stick to point at the black X’s, “are known Death Eater locations. Should go without saying, but don’t go bloody near them unless on assignment.” 

 

Remus chimed in again; his eyes were kind and worried, and his hands never stopped wringing in front of him. “One of these maps will be in every safe house as well as—” His words died on his tongue, his eyes flickering to Kingsley and Mad-Eye. 

 

With a gruff, Mad-Eye finished, “As well as an ongoing list of casualties, prisoners of war, and those missing in action. They’ll be charmed to mimic the master list here at HQ.”

 

Hermione’s chest felt tight as if his words were wringing her heart out like a wet towel. War in the abstract was daunting; war in reality, one where there were casualties and prisoners of war, was horrifying. She couldn’t imagine seeing any of her friends’ names on that list. Couldn’t fathom the idea that it might someday read H.GRANGER in scratchy letters. 

 

“Now for assignments. Those of you older folks should already be well aware of your designation but you younger lot, listen up.” Lupin’s gaze flickered over to Hermione, a sad smile gracing his face.

 

Kingsley cleared his throat, unfurling a roll of parchment and reading aloud. “Longbottom, Finnigan, Lovegood, Thomas, McLaggen, and Ginny Weasley. You’ll comprise Team One—”

 

“Hell yeah!” Seamus hollered from behind her, earning a few snickers from the rest of his team. 

 

“The numbers are moot, Finnigan!” Moody barked and Seamus shrank back, a blush staining his fair cheeks at having been properly chastised. 

 

With a roll of his eyes, Kingsley continued. “Team Two: Cho, Fred and George Weasley, Brown, Creevy, Pavarti Patil. Now, Padma, you’ll be assisting Poppy and working on your healing mastery. Let’s see…” Kingsley mused, his eyes searching the parchment for more information. 

 

Ginny peeked over her shoulder at Hermione, her brows low in confusion at having not heard ‘Granger’ anywhere in the mix. 

 

“Ah, yes. Strategy and Intel: Nott and Malfoy.” 

 

Tension settled over Hermione’s shoulders as she glanced over at them. Theo seemed innocuous enough; he was quiet and kept mostly to himself. She’d honestly never spoken more than a handful of words to the boy but it wasn’t something she had any intention of rectifying any time soon.

 

“For the time being, all of you are to head to Bristol. Those in the field, consider that your home base. Aurors will be there throughout the coming weeks to train you in hand to hand combat as well as offensive and defensive spells. Be prepared to sweat.” 

 

The tail of the parchment curled in on itself and the three leaders stared out at their meager ranks with varying expressions. Lupin was hopeful, Kingsley apprehensive, and Moody… well, Moody looked disappointed. 

 

“That covers that, and we will be in touch with each of your teams in due time. Dis—” Moody was cut off by Ginny, her hand flying into the air. 

 

“Sir, you didn’t assign Hermione anything,” she announced to the room, and Hermione felt her cheeks flame. 

 

Remus and Kingsley shared a nervous exchange, but Moody’s features betrayed nothing as he spoke, “Granger, you’re to join Harry and Ron on their next check-in. Until then, head to Bristol for training. You can assist with strategy after that.”

 

Hermione’s mouth fell open in protest, her hands balling into fists. She couldn’t work with Malfoy. 

 

Lupin spoke next, his features pulled together in understanding. “Just while we wait for  Harry and Ron, Hermione. Shouldn’t be long.” 

 

“ _ Dismissed _ !” Moody shouted, slamming his walking stick into the tile and causing every person in the room to jump. 

 

The room erupted into movement, the quiet shuffling of shoes against worn tile and murmurs of what to expect. 

 

Luna stood, joining Hermione and Ginny as they clasped their hands together, each one attempting to leech strength from the others. 

 

“I think you were right, Luna,” Hermione managed through her gritted teeth. 

 

“About what in particular?” Luna chimed, her sweet smile ever-present. 

 

“Looks like we are diving right back into the Underworld.” 

 

Malfoy’s narrowed glare locked onto Hermione’s. With a twitch of her chin, she turned on her heel and stormed from Grimmauld Place. 

 

XXXXX

 

Bristol house was really more of a Manor, with large lawns and an opulent fountain. It boasted a dozen bedrooms, two living rooms, and a parlour. There was a small study upstairs which featured a wall lined with books and a balcony that overlooked the back lawn. 

 

The Order had acquired the property through one Madame Sylvanie Dufour,  a widower twice over and with more money to her name than even the Malfoys could boast. Her more recent husband, Monsieur Dufour, had preferred the countryside in Bristol when choosing their home. 

 

She, however, preferred Paris. 

 

Immediately following his untimely death, Madame Dufour had departed for Paris, claiming a distaste for the political climate of Britain, and lending the sprawling lands to her dear friend, Kingsley, to be used at his discretion during the war efforts.  

 

Hermione had only visited a few times, to help with wards and organizing, but truthfully, Bristol house didn’t need much attention. Surely, not as much as Surrey. Hermione didn’t actually care much for Bristol. There was far too much space, too many places for things to go wrong. Her anxiety was quelled when she could see every inch of space that someone could occupy. 

 

The older Order members began to settle there, claiming rooms and constantly telling everyone to pipe down.  The migration of the younger fighters to Canterbury had been almost immediate. 

  
  
  


But it seemed she couldn’t avoid Bristol for the week. She crossed the threshold with her bag hanging from her shoulder and avoiding eye contact  with the Aurors and Senior Order members bustling about. 

 

“Granger?” A man with graying hair and kind blue eyes asked, his brows raised. 

 

“That’s me.”

 

“Trueman Malley.” He gestured quickly to himself before shaking her hand. “I’ll be handling today’s training for the younger recruits.” 

 

Hermione startled. He looked like an ordinary type of bloke, not the kind of man Hermione would associate with combat magic— or hand to hand for that matter. 

 

“Oh! Brilliant!” Hermione responded too brightly and he chuckled, jerking his chin towards the large French doors leading to the back lawn. 

 

“About ten minutes and we’ll get started.”

 

Hermione’s lips tucked in as she nodded and made for the back door, giving one last worried glance over her shoulder. 

 

Outside, the rest of her friends were gathered, as well as McLaggen, Malfoy, and Theo. Neville, Luna, and Ginny were clustered just a few feet away but something stopped her from approaching them. For the first time, she felt like the outsider. 

 

She’d always known her place with the boys; her role in that friendship, how they responded to her neurosis, and how to avoid a row with either. 

 

Hermione wasn’t sure where she fit in with this group, especially as she wasn’t tasked as one of the resistance fighters; she was just here to kill time, so they made it seem. 

 

That didn’t mean that Hermione wasn’t excited to learn some more practical knowledge on defending herself. Her last two years at Hogwarts had afforded her barely any hands-on experience, and she felt rusty after a summer of transfiguring furniture and casting cleaning charms. 

 

Plopping down on the lawn, Hermione reached for her toes, stretching out the tight ligaments at the backs of her knees, and then raised her arms overhead, wincing at the resistance of her joints. 

 

“Granger,” a familiar, albeit skin grating, drawl sounded from behind her, his figure casting a shadow over her. 

 

“What, Malfoy?” She sighed heavily, standing with an overexaggerated huff.

 

“Just saying hello… being polite. Isn’t that allowed?” Damn that bloody smirk. 

 

Craning her neck from side to side and stretching out her thighs by pressing her foot into her rear, she managed to give him a withering glare. “Malfoy, you don’t know to be polite. I’m not entirely sure it’s your fault though. I think it might be genetic.” 

 

She felt a sick sort of pleasure as she watched the muscles in his throat constrict as he ground his molars. 

 

“If your manners are what you judge someone by—well, suffice it to say, I’m fine with your assessment. Can’t even be bothered to say ‘hello’ when someone greets you,” he said with a snort, not to mention the severe roll of his eyes. “Regardless, Nott and I will be heading to Surrey house after this. We’ll need to side-along if you can manage it.”

 

“Why are you coming to Surrey house?”Hermione’s toffee-coloured eyes blew wide and round, and she took a quick step towards him in her confusion. 

 

“Moody wants us to set up Surrey for strategy for the time being. Less prying eyes and nosy eavesdroppers. You know, in case someone gets snatched up and  _ Crucio _ ’d until their tongue loosens.”

 

Hermione flinched away from the thought, baring her teeth at him in a grimace. “Merlin, Malfoy. It’s not even nine o’clock yet, can you leave your talk of kidnap and torture until lunch?”

 

His eyes crinkled with wry amusement and he let out a soft chuckle. “Sure, Granger. After training then?”

 

With a groan, she nodded. 

 

She’d have to touch him to Apparate him, and sure, in the grand scheme of sharing a safe house and working with him it seemed small enough, but it was still undesirable. 

 

“Alright! Gather up!” Trueman called, rounding the crowd of people to stand facing the house. “Myself and O’Connor will be running your training this week. We assume you’ve covered rudimentary basics during your schooling, such as shields and stunners. We will instead be focusing on more intense aspects of combat, both magical and non. O’Connor.” Trueman nodded as a younger man, maybe late twenties, joined his side. He was handsome, with a square jaw covered in thick stubble, and dark, deep-set eyes, his hair was tied loosely back with some wayward strands hanging over his forehead but something about the way he carried himself warned her. 

 

“I’m Devin O’Connor.” He had a thick Irish accent that had Ginny grinning over at her. She responded with a roll of her eyes. Hermione always had a weakness for Irish accents. Gods, that awful crush she’d had on Seamus as a child; she’d adored his little temper tantrums. She’d quickly grown out of it.

 

“I’m a specialist with the Auror Department and I’ll be helping with your curses, hexes, and jinxes, as well as other forms of offensive magic. But, we’ll get to those later in the week. This morning we will be focusing on defensive magic and skills. Let’s start with a warm-up: give me three laps around the safe house.” O’Connor immediately turned to his partner, speaking in a low voice, and only peeked back up when Seamus made a disgruntled noise and took a step forward. 

 

“That’s not a warm-up, that’s a mile.”

 

O’Connor shrugged. “Run a mile, then.” He returned to his conversation. 

 

Seamus grumbled something unintelligible as the group took off at a slow jog. As she ran, Hermione tied her hair up and set a steady pace. Luna joined her, waving her arms about as if she were doing a choreographed dance, but still somehow keeping up a strong jaunt that actually ended up pushing Hermione. 

 

“Luna,” she chuckled, “What on earth are you doing?”

 

“I find the adrenaline from physical exertion often attracts all sorts of unwanted energy. Jitters and whatnot. I am simply redirecting that energy to keep myself in balance.” She flourished her hands in the air, pressing her palms upward and then swinging them low. 

 

Hermione already had a sheen of sweat along her hairline and was breathing heavily, but Luna looked entirely unaffected. Brilliant. 

 

She didn’t let her mind wander as they completed their run, instead choosing to focus. One foot in front of the other until she was once again on the back lawn, doubling over as she sucked in greedy, burning breaths. 

 

Malfoy mimicked her stance just a few feet away from her, panting with his face nearly between his knees. He stood, grabbing the bottom of his thin shirt and wiping his face with it, exposing the thin cuts of muscle and a trail of coarse blond hair peeking from his athletic shorts. Hermione’s jaw dropped surreptitiously and her gaze drifted to the curve of his bum. 

 

Theo joined him moments later, clearly just as affected by the run. He chose to completely forego his shirt, reaching behind him and pulling it from his shoulders in a fluid motion and tossing it behind him. Hermione’s mouth went dry. 

 

Speaking from an observational standpoint, the two men had similar body shapes; Theo was a bit broader, his muscle a little thicker, where Malfoy was lean and long. 

 

Theo’s gaze caught Hermione’s—well, caught her staring like a pervert, his eyes tightening briefly, wrinkling the space between his brows. She jolted to standing, averting her glare as a fierce blush crept up her throat.  _ Shit _ .

 

“We are gonna start with sparring simple shields and stunners. Pair up!” Trueman shouted, and Hermione felt a flash of anxiety. 

 

Not that she wasn’t used to this part—the boys always chose each other first, but it wasn’t something she necessarily enjoyed. 

 

The issue was that the teams were evenly matched and they’d split that way naturally, again. But it left her in quite an awkward situation as she was left standing alone. 

 

Not to fear, the handsome dark magic instructor approached her, volunteering to spar with her.  _ Brilliant. _

 

“Ten minutes.  _ Go _ !” 

 

O’Connor wasted not a single second, firing a burning stunner at her bare shins, eliciting a yelp and a curse as she withdrew her wand. She had a  _ Protego _ up within seconds and his magic beat against it. 

 

_ The hell was this guy thinking _ ? This was supposed to be a warmup, not a fucking duel. Purple bursts of magic fired out in quick succession, each one weakening her shield. Her magic crackled against her skin, the tips of her hair lifting as she tried to concentrate on channeling the magic through her wand.

 

With a cocky scoff, O’Connor dropped his wand and turned, clearly disappointed in her skill. 

 

Hermione saw her moment and dropped her shield. “ _ Stupefy _ ,” she cast, wand trained on the center of his back. His arm raised quickly, twisting in the air and sending it back into her with a renewed vigor. The spell slammed into her chest and shot her backwards a few feet, crashing into the lawn with a soft  _ thud _ . 

 

The wind was knocked from her lungs and she clawed at her throat until her diaphragm complied and air once again flooded her lungs. 

 

“I commend you for fighting dirty, Miss… was it, Granger?” Hermione sat up, her chest still heaving; she felt the dozens of eyes on her. “It’ll get you far in the field.” O’Connor took the few steps towards her, extending his palm out to her and helping her to his feet. “Next time, don’t use a bloody  _ Stupefy _ —and make sure you’re faster than me.”

 

To her right, Malfoy threw a playful elbow into Theo’s ribs as he chuckled in delight. Hermione’s arse was throbbing from the blow, but not as much as her precious ego. 

 

“Again!” Trueman shouted from behind her and she took her dueling stance, this time getting her  _ Protego _ in place before the stunner clipped her. 

 

XXXXX

 

The rest of the morning was much of the same: Hermione being violently reminded how out of practice she was by getting repeatedly knocked on her arse. 

 

They broke for lunch and then in the afternoon resumed with non-magical combat. Again they focused on defense and this time she was lucky enough to be paired with Trueman, or so she thought. 

 

Despite looking like a suburban dad who drove a minivan and grilled hot dogs on the weekend, his movements were lethal. He was quicker than Hermione would have guessed for someone nearing the middle of his life, and when he swooped down to sweep her legs and—again—knocked her on her arse, she kicked her heels into the dirt with a nasty expletive. 

 

The day ended and Hermione hobbled towards the Apparition point, rubbing her lower back and limping slightly. She had pain potions back in Surrey, as well as a hot shower and a bed with more cushioning charms than was absolutely necessary. 

 

“Granger!” 

 

Hermione winced.  _ So close _ .

 

“What, Malfoy?” she said, attempting to straighten her spine and earning a sharp stabbing pain in her side as a result. 

 

Malfoy scoffed, Theo hot on his heels. Lurking. “You’re meant to Apparate us, remember?”

 

Hermione merely growled in response, taking a few more steps until she felt the ward give way. 

 

“Hold your arms out,” she grumbled and as soon as they complied, her hands were on their forearms and they were twisting in a swirl of her magic. 

 

Her feet sunk into the fresh dirt outside Surrey house and with another uncomfortable movement, she released their arms and made her slow walk towards the house. Malfoy, being the prat he was, bounced up the stairs past her and into the home. Theo at least had the good sense to wait patiently. 

 

Once inside, she hobbled to the corner of the room where she had stocked emergency medical supplies and plucked a pain potion from the drawer, draining it in a single swallow. The relief was instant, not vanishing the pain, but dulling it to a manageable ache and now all she needed was a hot—

 

The sound of the faucet running down the hall made her tense, and with wild, enraged eyes she looked over her shoulder to where Theo was standing. His lips were pulled back in an almost apologetic frown, and she tore down the hallway and tried her luck at the handle. 

 

Locked. 

 

She proceeded to bang her fist against the door, screaming Malfoy’s name. 

 

He could hear her. She was positive. She was positive because he kept making overly exaggerated moaning noises and praising the hot water for doing such wonders on his achy body. 

 

If they made it through the night without her hexing his bollocks off, it would be a monumental victory. 

 

She turned back towards the front room and found Theo collapsed in the armchair by the fire, his arms tucked behind his head, and his eyes closed. She gave an indignant little huff as she fell onto the sofa next to him and one of his blue eyes peeked open at her. 

 

The corner of Theo’s lips pulled up in a crooked smile. “He only does it because you take the bait. If you didn’t respond so grandly, he might stop.”

 

“Are you sure?” Something about Malfoy’s general prattiness made it seem quite obvious that he would most certainly not be stopping, no matter if she ignored him or not. 

 

His grin widened, eyes once again closed. “No.”

 

Hermione took the opportunity to study her new roommate, at least for the time being. He was tall, not quite ‘Malfoy-tall’ but tall enough. His lashes fanned against his cheekbones as he dozed and with a gulp she remembered exactly what he had looked like sans shirt. 

 

His personality didn’t seem so quite so abrasive, although anyone who spent their time with Malfoy of their own volition had to have their character questioned at least to some degree. 

 

“You’re not like him.” 

 

He hummed in response before a yawn clawed its way up his throat. 

 

“Just an observation.” She shrugged and it seemed that with that he resigned himself to not enjoying the quiet. 

 

He sat up, rubbing his hands over his face a few times before leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “He’s really not so bad if you’re not— well, if you’re not you.” Theo’s lips twitched in an almost smile and she couldn’t help but match it. “He’s a good egg. Got me out of there, didn’t he?”

 

Hermione’s brow puckered; she hadn’t really considered that Malfoy had done anything to assist in getting Theo out of anything. 

 

“To be honest, I think he’s just flirting with you.”

 

Hermione inhaled so sharply that a chunk of her own saliva hit the back of her throat and she started hacking uncontrollably. When she’d regained her functions, she began laughing hysterically. “I know I don’t really know you, but I didn’t think you were funny.”

 

“Well, I  _ am _ funny but I’m not joking. Draco has always been someone who likes attention from pretty witches, and he’s not the sort to differentiate between bad and good attention.”

 

Hermione blushed furiously, unused to compliments… not even sure if he  _ had _ given her a compliment at all. 

 

“He’s ridiculous,” Hermione said through pursed lips. 

 

Theo’s lopsided smile returned and he chuckled. “That he is, but that’s not stopped him from charming a witch or two in his day.” Theo slapped his palms against his thighs and stood. “Careful, Granger.”

 

“Constant vigilance,” she replied with a twitch of her lips. 

 

“Exactly.” Theo laughed and rounded the couch, disappearing into the second bedroom. 

 

Once alone, Hermione groaned into her palms as she listened to the next verse of the second song Draco had decided to sing. 

 

He was going to drive her absolutely mad.  

 

XXXXX

 

**A/N: Alpha and Beta love to MCal + In Dreams. I own nothing but the remaining mistakes.**

 

**Check Tumblr + Appendix for updated character cards :)**

  
  



	3. Three

The heel of Trueman’s palm struck her directly in the diaphragm, causing her to collapse to one knee as she raked in huffs of air. 

 

“That could have been countered,” Trueman noted, in no way affected by the constant beating he was giving to Hermione. He took a step back, raising his voice over the other pairs fighting it out _gently_. “Have you ever heard the expression ‘work smarter, not harder’? That’s the key to hand to hand combat! Hermione, please stand—” 

 

With a grunt, Hermione did as requested and took the fighting stance she had learned that morning. Her body angled to allow less area to strike, protecting as many vital organs as possible, with her fists up. 

 

Trueman’s stance matched her own and he took a few test jabs at her while the rest of the group watched. 

 

The first was an easy deflection towards her face; she flung her fist into the air so his cross hook was halted by her forearm. The second was a knee that he, thankfully, slowed before it came in contact with the lower half of her ribcage. 

 

“In most cases, especially with the witches in the group, you will be overpowered by your opponent's strength. _That does not mean they have the upper hand_!” he shouted at the end. “No matter their size, there are points of weakness on everyone’s body. The joints, eyes, nose, groin, neck, and the diaphragm.” Truman gestured to these parts on himself as he spoke to the group and then stepped once more towards Hermione. “One solid strike to any of those locations and you will render your opponent incapacitated, for at least a few moments.”

 

“If I reach out like this.” His large hand wrapped around her opposite wrist, firmly, but not painfully. “Hermione’s first reaction is to yank her hand back towards her face.” 

 

Hermione practiced the movement as he said it and found that the more she moved, the more firmly he gripped. If he meant to hold onto her, she wouldn’t escape that way. 

 

“So what do we do? First thing: get out of the hold, then counter. To get out, rotate your body in an unnatural way for your opponent. This joint—” he pointed to his wrist “—is weak. Its motion is limited. Hermione, swing your hand under and then attempt to grab my wrist.”

 

Hermione took a deep breath before swiftly following his instructions; as she did, his shoulder twisted and he was forced to one knee, his grip faltering and her hands freed. 

 

The grin splitting her face was contagious as Trueman smiled back at her. “What next, Hermione?”

 

She took only a moment to think before driving her knee up towards his face, and pausing just a breath away from his nose. 

 

Hoots and hollers from the crowd caused a hot blush to stain her cheeks and when she looked around even Malfoy had his brows raised high in surprise. 

 

“Very good, Hermione,” Trueman praised, rising to his feet. “Death Eaters will rely on their strength and size to take you down in the field.” He turned towards Hermione with a crinkle near his eyes. “Make them regret it.”

 

XXXXX

 

They spent the rest of the afternoon focusing on disarming an opponent in hand to hand combat, without the use of their wands. 

 

The worst part of the training was when both O’Connor and Trueman stood at the far side of the lawn and shot stinger after stinger at the lot of them. They were to make it past them without being hit by a stinging jinx—no one made it all the way. The trainees leaped and jumped over the bursts of magic, but one by one, they all went down. Each one limped from the field rubbing their injuries. 

 

Later, she went up against O’Connor again. This time he had his wand, and she was charged with the task of getting it from him without being hit. 

 

She ducked past the few stingers, rolling to her side and crouching near his feet. Her heel struck the back of his knee and he collapsed before he could complete his wand movement and Hermione reached for his wand arm. 

 

O’Connor’s non-wand arm came up to wrap around her throat, throwing her to her back and pointing his wand square in his face. 

 

“You’re getting better,” he grinned, releasing her throat and offering to help her to stand. 

 

Trueman shouted again, approaching them quickly. “No!” His arms were waving wildly as she brushed the dirt from her clothes. “You gave him that win, Hermione. And in a few weeks’ time, that mistake could cost you your life.” Trueman shook his head disappointedly before turning his back. “Crack him over the skull next time!” he shouted over his shoulder. 

 

Towards the end of the day, Hermione was feeling more confident with her body. When a strike came for her face, she would quickly rotate, letting it hit the back of her shoulder before twisting to drive a knee into O’Connor’s kidney. 

 

She was still shite against Trueman but thankfully he had since taken to moving about the circle and handing out individualized attention to the rest of the pairs. As Hermione gulped at a full glass of water, she watched in awe as Luna danced around Neville. She looked like a sprite, but just as she had been while running, she was purposeful in her movements, pulling her punches at the last moment and smiling sweetly at her beau. 

 

“Okay! Let’s switch up these partners a bit before we call it for the day. Hermione, let’s get you with someone else, eh?” Trueman called, his eyes searching the group for someone to pair her with. 

 

Her eyes narrowed as Malfoy, self-important smirk and all, raised his hand and stepped forward; his head cocked easily to the side. 

 

“Brilliant!” Trueman clapped, lightly directing her towards Malfoy. “Nott, you’re with Weasley. I don’t care which one, take your pick. Seamus, you’re with O’Connor—that oughta be fun.” He chuckled under his breath and slowly new pairs formed. 

  


Malfoy’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip before he dragged his teeth over it. “Don’t pull your punches, Granger.” 

 

Hermione snorted. “Wasn’t planning on it, Malfoy.” 

 

He struck first and it quickly made all the sense in the world why he was a Slytherin. In all aspects, he was a snake. His movements were lightning fast and precise as the blade of his hand struck the thick tendon stretching from her neck to her shoulder. 

 

“Fuck,” she hissed, her hand flying up to cradle where he’d struck her. She cracked her neck once and then brought her hands up, methodically pressing forward, forcing him to take on a defensive stance and block her onslaught of blows. 

 

She faked a wild haymaker with her left and his body opened up, just enough for her to drive her fist below his breast bone. He gasped at the impact, doubling over momentarily. 

 

With a quick instep, she turned her back on him to crush her elbow into his pointy nose, grinning at the crunch of the impact. 

 

“Fuck, Granger!” Malfoy cursed, cradling his nose that was now trickling blood. 

 

Wickedly, she waggled her eyebrows at him and his silver eyes turned nearly black as he narrowed them. 

 

It was his turn on the offense and for as much as she could block his punches effectively, she was useless against the sheer speed and voracity of them. 

 

She moved side to side as fast as possible, ducking a sweeping hook and landing one punch to his stomach. 

 

“ _PULL YOUR PUNCHES_!” Trueman shouted, but the pair of them were so entranced in their spar that they ignored the instruction. 

 

Sucking in a harsh breath, Malfoy turned wildly and continued his onslaught. It was his turn to fake a jab, which she unwittingly fell for. His dominant hand reached out to snag her wrist and she faltered, pulling it towards her and nearly knocking herself in the face with her own fist. 

 

With a quick tug of his wrist, he pulled her into him, his teeth forming a nasty growl. Her eyes flickered over his shoulder to Trueman who was watching with a fierce intensity; the rest of the group gathered in a small circle to watch the match. Trueman’s chin lifted slightly, barely at all, and she remembered. 

 

Hermione twisted her arm under his hold causing Malfoy’s grip to falter and she gripped his wrist, curling it around his back until he fell to his knee with a growl. She stood proudly behind him and let her head rest back for a moment, her grip loosening. 

 

It was a mistake. 

 

Draco freed his wrist, knocking the side of her knee with a hard elbow. With a strangled cry she fell, her knees crashing into the lawn, and Draco swung her onto her back. He was on top of her, holding his weight on a single arm, the other pressing lightly into her throat. 

 

“Agh!” she cried out, bringing both of her hands on top of the one that was pushing her down. She wrestled against his hold but paused when she felt the stiff muscle of his thigh pressing against her mound. Without her permission, her own thighs tightened and she watched as his gaze flickered to her parted lips. 

 

Something hot and hungry and positively feral clawed deep in her belly when Draco’s fingers flexed lightly around her neck. Her own gaze fell to his mouth, bloodied from impact, and her heart fluttered violently. 

 

“Get a room!” Seamus shouted and the trance between them shattered. Her curious expressions transformed into a growl and with a grunt he allowed himself to be pushed off her. He rolled onto his back and they both laid there for a moment, staring up at the overcast sky. 

 

“That was a helluva bout,” Trueman said, approaching them. “What’d I say though, Granger?”

 

Hermione sat up, panting and resting her elbows on her drawn up knees. She smirked up at her instructor. “Crack him in the head next time?”

 

“That a girl.” He grinned and helped her to her feet. 

 

“Oi! What about me? The one _bleeding_?”

 

Hermione pulled a face and with a roll of her eyes, held out her hand to help Malfoy up. He took it, maybe a little too roughly, and then tugged her body flush against his. “Is it just me, or did that totally turn you on?”

 

Her mouth went dry, and she gulped to try and swallow the Snitch that had decided to take residence in her throat. “Just you.” 

 

His silver gaze raked over her features, spending an extra moment studying the shape of her lips. “Right, Granger.” He winked before releasing her and walking up to Theo, slapping him in the chest. 

 

“Merlin,” she muttered under her breath, ignoring the dull ache between her thighs. 

 

XXXXX

 

Back in Surrey, Hermione was able to claim the shower first, letting the hot jets of water stretch her curls until they were nearing her waist. 

 

The night prior she had been positively irate that Draco had taken so long in the shower, but now that it was her turn… she kind of got it. Gods it felt good, and after she’d scrubbed her skin once, she did it again, unable to feel like she could get the day off of her. 

 

After a shamefully long time, she stepped from the confines of the shower and wrapped a threadbare towel around herself. She tiptoed from the bathroom and into her bedroom where she dropped her towel on the edge of the bed and began to rummage through her bag for a change of clean clothes. Her knickers and bra were easy enough to find, but her favorite sweats seemed to be buried at the bottom of this extendable charm—

 

Her door flung open and Hermione shrieked, hitting the ground with a loud thud and scrambling for her towel.

 

“Granger—” Malfoy began, unphased by her mostly naked body writhing on the cold wood floor. “Granger, stop that. I’ve seen an ugly pair of knickers before, you don’t have to hide anything. Now, I need to talk to you.”

 

Finally, she managed to wrap the thin towel around her body and clambered to her feet, scowling. “Surprisingly enough, it’s not my knickers I’m trying to hide from your prying eyes, Malfoy. It’s the body in them.”

 

His lips curled up slowly—delightfully, even. “No need to hide that either, Granger.” He took a few steps further into the room and let his burning stare travel slowly down her body. “You could even show me more if you wanted.”

 

They were nearly chest to chest now and Hermione’s features transformed from hard to soft, open. “Malfoy?” she breathed, letting the moment settle. 

 

“Yeah, Granger?”

 

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed into slits as her wand stabbed into the thin patch of skin at the hollow of his throat. “Try that shit again and I will hex your bollocks into walnuts. Got it?” She gave him a mocking smile and he grumbled, taking a step back. 

 

“Fine, Granger. All work, no play. Understood. Now, hurry up and get out here, Moody’s sent something.”

 

That sobered her and she nodded, watching as Malfoy pulled the door closed behind him. She was just about to drop her towel when her brows puckered and she clutched it tighter. There were no creaky steps. 

 

The door flung open again, Malfoy’s face bright and playful as he tried to, yet again, catch her in her knickers. Hermione, still covered, gave him a withering sneer and his face fell. 

 

“Ugh, fine. Hurry up, Granger.” 

 

She couldn’t help but chuckle at the sound of steps retreating down the hall. 

 

XXXXX

 

Freshly showered and in her favorite sweats, she slipped from her bedroom. 

 

“Durmstrang?” Theo asked, his brows puckering while looking at her pyjamas.

 

“Hmm?” She hummed, looking at the letters trailing down her left leg. “Oh, yeah.” She shrugged. 

 

“Did you shag Krum?” Malfoy balked, his jaw unhinging behind Theo.

 

Theo made a face, slapping the back of his hand into his friend's chest. “Mate! 

 

“Oh. Sorry.” Malfoy’s lips pouted and he collapsed into one of the wooden chairs around the table in the corner. 

 

“They were a gift, if you must know,” Hermione said pointedly, sitting next to him. 

 

“So you didn’t fuck him?” Malfoy asked with his brows raised high on his forehead. 

 

Hermione giggled, her teeth cutting into her lip. “No, I fucked him.” 

 

Theo shook in laughter next to him as Malfoy’s face crumpled into a ruse of disgust. 

 

“ _Gross.”_

 

“Right.” She rolled her eyes, snagging a roll of parchment from the bag in the middle of the table. “Because having sex with an older, handsome, professional Quidditch player is often regarded as _gross_.”

 

Hermione was fully aware that Malfoy had no interest in her. He was a bored kitten with something running away from him; she was just a toy to pass the time.

 

Delicately unrolling the parchment, she stared at a massive blueprint, her brows tugging together. 

 

“What else did he send?” Hermione asked, not taking her eyes from the drawing. 

 

“Likely wards and curses,” Theo said, reading over another list. “And this—” He unfurled another scroll, this time in the center of the table so they all could see it. 

 

Etched onto the ivory paper was a cup. It didn’t seem overly interesting or intricate, nothing that set it aside from most of the other chalices she’d seen in her life—except for one small detail. 

 

“What’s that?” she queried, pulling the parchment closer to her. At the base of the cup was a small inscription. _H. Hufflepuff_. “Is this the cup of Helga Hufflepuff?” 

 

“I mean, it’s a drawing. It could be anything,” Malfoy mused, twisting the parchment so it was right side up to him. “So, what? They want to find this at— _oh shit_.”

 

Malfoy’s eyes locked onto the blueprint and Hermione pushed towards the center of the table. 

 

Theo groaned, dragging his hands through his dark hair before settling at the back of his neck. “Fucking hell, mate.” 

 

“What?” For the life of her, Hermione couldn’t see what had gotten the pair of them so spooked. 

 

Malfoy’s pale finger slid across the map until her gaze caught on the neat scrawl at the bottom. 

 

_Lestrange Manor._

 

“Fuck,” Hermione breathed. 

 

XXXXX

 

Hours passed. _Hours_. 

 

If this was what strategy and reconnaissance was going to entail, Hermione couldn’t wait to be back out there with Harry and Ron. Gofer had delivered a handful of clues and nothing else. 

 

“So, I think it’s safe to assume that Moody wants us to formulate a plan to extract this artifact from Lestrange Manor.” 

 

“Yeah, no shit, Granger,” Malfoy snorted, leaning back smugly in his chair. 

 

“What he means to say,” Theo said pointedly, his eyes widening in a warning at his friend, “is that it’s impossible. Pureblood houses have more wards and curses—not to mention wayward dark artifacts—lying around than you can imagine.”

 

“Okay, tell me about that.” Hermione’s fingers steepled under her chin as she studied the papers in front of her. “I mean, you’re able to move about your own houses. So clearly, there is a way around them.”

 

The two boys shared a knowing look before averting their gazes to the table. Draco sat forward, his face pulled into an uncomfortable grimace. 

 

“What?” she asked, her eyes traveling back and forth between them. “Go on, whatever it is can’t be that—”

 

“We’re Purebloods,” Theo said swiftly, unable to meet her gaze. 

 

Malfoy levied a heavy breath as he leaned his muscled forearms across the table. “Everything is really meant to keep Muggleborns from entering the estate.”

 

Hermione blinked. “What? That’s—Malfoy, that’s ridiculous. What do they think Muggleborns are going to do?”

 

Draco’s silver eyes flickered up yet again to Theo, whose lips flattened into a tight line as he shrugged. 

 

“Well,” Malfoy started. “And let me preface this by saying I _do not_ believe this—” He held his hands up in defense. “But, it has been long since regarded that Muggles, and well… _Muggleborns_ specifically, _steal_ magic from witches and wizards. It’s completely backward and yeah, it’s not something necessarily still widely accepted but these houses are old. The prejudice? Even older.”

 

“Nott Manor is littered with them, but they don’t affect me. It’s kind of… out of sight, out of mind. Yeah?” 

 

Hermione wasn’t sure what the emotion was that was coursing so violently under her skin. Was it anger? Disbelief? Repulsion? 

 

There was an extensive list of things Hermione knew to be true beyond a reasonable doubt, but the thing that she knew the most? She was born with magic in her blood. It was as much a part of her as her brown eyes and curly hair. She didn’t steal bollocks from any Pureblood prissy. 

 

And as much as she desperately wanted to drag the two boys sharing her table, it wasn’t their fault. They were here, weren’t they? She sucked in a deep, sobering breath and braced her palms on the table, collecting her thoughts. 

 

“Regardless, Moody wants this cup from Lestrange Manor. You two know these old houses better than anyone. Where are the points of entry? Do you think…” Hermione chewed on her cheek for a moment. “Is it occupied?” 

 

Malfoy canted his head from side to side in thought. “There’ll be house elves. _Loyal house elves_.” He gave her a meaningful look. “They’ll be gone in an instant to warn their masters.” 

 

Hermione sighed, pulling her hair off her shoulders, draping it to the side and resting her chin in her palm. Her gaze flickered back over to Malfoy and curiously enough he was staring at the newly exposed flesh of her neck. Clearing her throat, she sat up tall. 

 

“Okay, where are the house elves quartered?” Hermione asked. 

 

“Here.” Theo pointed to a small room off the downstairs kitchen. “But they’ll be alerted as soon as the wards are breached…”

 

She could simply not believe the words that were about to come out of her mouth. “They’ll need to be incapacitated quickly. I have an idea but it’s not exactly in the realm of my moral code. The good news is they won’t see it coming.”

 

“What next?” Theo asked, his brows pulled low over his blue eyes. 

 

“Everything,” Malfoy said, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. “Everything next.”

 

XXXXX

 

 _A/N: Thanks for tuning in for another chapter! I am_ **officially** _10 chapters ahead! So as I finish chapters and get them through beta, you should see them more frequently in your inbox._

 

_Alpha heart eyes to MCal and Beta love to In Dreams._

 

_Would love to know what you think so far!_

  



	4. Four

“Ready for today, Granger?” Malfoy asked from just over Hermione’s shoulder, startling her. 

 

She yelped and turned to swat at him. “Why are you perpetually pestering me?” 

 

“Look at you; I knew with a little brushing up on the basics you’d master those three-syllable words. Before long you’ll be as well-spoken as myself.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, turning to face him and walking back a few steps. “You’re positively loquacious Malfoy. And I mean that with all ill intent possible.”

 

Draco barked out a pleasant laugh, dragging his hands through his hair. “Have I told you yet today that your arse looks delectable in those trousers.” His voice rose a bit to cover the distance between them as she continued her retreat. 

 

She bit back a smile, chuckling as she turned, knowing full well he was staring at her legging-clad bum. Let him suffer a bit. 

 

XXXXX

 

They were no longer in pairs. The entire group of younger recruits stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at a faceless dummy about ten feet away. 

 

O’Connor was practically vibrating with giddiness as he paced back and forth between them and their practice dummies. 

 

“Right!” He clapped his hands together enthusiastically. “So, as I said, I’m a specialist with the Auror department. I deal specifically with the use of Dark Magic. Your entire lives you have been taught to shy away from this side of the magical spectrum—that ends today.

 

“In the field, firing stunners and disarming spells will get you killed. You need to learn the proper way of using dark magic.” He paused for a moment, staring each of them down. “It’s not as easy it sounds.”

 

“Sir?” Luna chimed in, taking a small step forward. “Dark magic stains your magical signature—doesn’t it?”

 

O’Connor’s face screwed up as he tilted his head back and forth. “Not inherently. All magic comes with an unspoken responsibility. For example, I can say the word _Crucio_ , so why doesn’t it cast?” His hands twined together behind his back as he faced them, waiting for an answer. 

 

Hermione’s hand shot into the air and the rest of the line shook with silent laughter. She was used to it.

 

“Granger?”

 

“Spells are cast with intent. Even if you were to use the proper wand movements and say the spell, your intent needs to be present.”

 

“Is that why you’re shite at calling a broom?” Seamus snickered from her left and she shot him a warning glare. 

 

Again, the group tittered in a low chuckle. 

 

“Alright, enough of that,” O’Connor scolded, resuming his pacing. “Hermione’s right. Intent. Effectively cursing someone comes down to intent and technical skill. This is where most of you will falter in the field. When your emotions are high and adrenaline is pumping… when you’re staring at the wand of someone who is ready to kill you with a flick of their wrist—one or the other falters. 

 

“Now, we can’t exactly practice this on each other. Hence these dummies. This morning, they won’t be able to fire back.” He paused, peeking over his shoulder with an amused curl to his lips. “This afternoon, they will. Let’s start with a simple curse. Well placed, this will kill your opponent.”

 

Hermione stiffened. He spoke so easily about ending someone’s life. As if it were nothing—as if the person didn’t have someone, _somewhere_ , who cared about them. 

 

“Like this.” O’Connor took his stance, slicing his wand through the air and flourishing it in a small spiral at the end. “ _Secare_.” 

 

The practice dummy at the opposite end seeped lime green fluid from its belly. Hermione flinched, imagining blood pouring from someone’s stomach and thanking Morgana that it wasn’t red. 

 

He cast a _Reparo_ and then moved behind the line of students as they all took their stance. 

 

Effortlessly, Hermione reproduced the wand movement, firmly casting the spell—but nothing happened. She frowned, repeating the steps again and yielding the same result. 

 

Several paces down, both Malfoy and Nott’s dummies wept neon green fluid onto the wet grass. They shrugged and stood back, watching everyone else with a curious glare. 

 

Malfoy’s eyes fell to Hermione’s and she frowned before trying a third time. Still, the dummy stared blankly back at her, even as she shook in her rage.

 

XXXXX

 

They practiced several curses that morning and each time, Hermione failed to cast. She wished she could say she was disappointed, but she was fucking livid. The Burning Curse had come next, and she had watched as almost every other dummy flared in a vibrant crimson. 

 

After lunch, the dummies were able to curse back. Mild versions of the originals—the Burning Curse felt like a stinger; instead of having her lungs fill with salt water, the Drowning Curse made her cough up a bit of water. 

 

And time after fucking time, Hermione got hit. By a dummy. 

 

Not only did these curses require intent, but a strong, almost burning desire to cast them. Which, to be fair, she mused, she did have but not for the right reasons. She wanted to cast them because not being able to do so was infuriating; she didn’t want to cause the dummy to bleed out. Hermione wasn’t sure she was capable of wanting anyone to die, no matter who they were. 

 

O’Connor gave her a placating little turn of his mouth and while she tried to remain calm, cool, and collected; her teeth ground together and her nostrils flared as she turned towards the dummy and pointed her wand squarely at the end of the field. 

 

“ _Incarcerous_!” 

 

Several feet of thick rope shot out from the tip of her wand and wrapped tightly around the arms and torso of the practice dummy, which remained motionless. 

 

O’Connor levied an exhausted breath as he turned towards her, his mouth turned unpleasantly downwards. 

 

“Why isn’t that good enough in the field?” Hermione asked with a defiant little huff. “They aren’t getting away until I lift those ropes.”

 

His voice raised an octave as he now spoke to the rest of the group, but his gaze remained steady on Hermione. “I am not here to tell you to kill someone or that this is the only way. I am here to offer you the tools you need to survive this war. Disarming, stunners, spells of the like—they might help you survive the day but when the Death Eaters decimate our numbers with killing curses and we let them walk free—tell me what is the outcome you expect?”

 

It was Ginny who spoke next, her small pale hand lifting barely into the air. “Can’t we just take them prisoner? We won’t be killing _and_ we can gain information?” she asked, looking tentatively at the rest of her team who seemed to be nodding in quiet agreement. 

 

Trueman joined O’Connor and they stood in matching posture, staring at the _children_ , for lack of a better term, with tight glares. 

 

“There are harsh realities to war,” Trueman said tersely. “Things that even O’Connor hasn’t seen first hand. Realities I wish you lot could be spared from.” He scratched his brow and the side of his face screwed up. “Moody will explain it to the field teams. For now, do your best to learn from the best, and pray you don’t need it.”

 

XXXXX

 

It was a rubbish day. 

 

Not that anyone knew, or cared, but it wasn’t exactly how she liked to spend her day, getting her arse kicked by a _literal_ dummy. 

 

Back at Surrey, Hermione was in an intense staring contest with the bottle of red wine in the cupboard. Her bum was pressed against the edge of the counter, her arms crossed squarely in front of her as she chewed on the inside of her bottom lip. 

 

After several long minutes, she reached around and plucked it from the corner by its neck, twisting her wand through the air until the cork popped out. 

 

It was her birthday, after all. 

 

It may have been a cheap bottle when compared to something found in the Malfoy cellars, but Circe, after the day—nay, the week—she’d had, it tasted like heaven.

 

Pouring herself an offensively healthy pour, she grabbed her cardigan and headed for the front porch. 

 

Late September in the Surrey countryside was a stunning sight to see. The hills just over the cliff faded from the vibrant greens of summer to a pale yellow; every time a strong gust of wind came through, vibrant colored leaves would rain from the sky. 

 

But the sunset—gods, the sunset. 

 

She sat on the steps, tugging her cardigan tightly around her as she watched the sky explode in a canvas of colors so beautiful, she was sure she couldn’t describe it to someone even if they were sitting next to her.

 

As she watched the sky dance in ribbons of varying hues, she couldn’t help but imagine where the following months would be taking her. War. 

 

What a strange concept. She’d spent the last week learning how to fight, how to disarm, _how to kill_. A shiver worked its way down her spine as she drained the rest of her goblet. With a wave of her wand, the bottle soared through the house and landed neatly at her side. 

 

About halfway through her second glass, when the sun was tucked neatly under the horizon and the moon was making its debut, she heard a rustle in the woods to her right. 

 

Her heart seized for a moment and her fingers tensed around the thin strip of wood that felt all too often like her lifeline. But then, in all his glory, Gofer came into view. 

 

He must have been in a spectacularly bad mood because the feathers that made up his ears were ruffled and wild. Large, golden eyes glared at her, flickering to the glass of wine in her hand and then back to her with a judgmental edge. 

 

She giggled into her wine glass as she took a small sip and he stuck his leg out for her. Attached to his ankle was a tiny scroll of parchment. Her hand smoothed his wild feathers, and his ears fell back as he leaned into the familiar touch before she released the note from Gofer’s leg. 

 

He hooted once more at her, this time with a less judgmental tone, and then took a few strides back, his wings extending as he took a ridiculous little running start before taking to the skies, snagging on branches on the way out. 

 

With a wry shake of her head, she unfurled the parchment and her heart caught in her throat. Usually, Hedwig delivered notes from the boys. 

 

_H-_

 

_Happy Birthday. Wish we could be there. Back soon._

 

_-H AND R_

 

The letter was meant to cheer her up, she knew that. _She knew that_. Instead it had the opposite effect she felt shattered by the scrap of parchment in her hands. Every single step into this war was further from the life she’d known for the last seven years. She wanted to be with her friends, wanted to be making a goddamn difference in this war instead of rotting away in these little houses. 

 

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was just being really fucking sad… but either way, she found herself pouring her third glass and weeping in the darkness. With each violent shake of her shoulders, a new round of tears slipped over her cheeks. 

 

Just when she was cursing her wine buzz and the ill planning of spending her birthday woefully alone, two quick cracks of Apparition sounded to her left. 

 

_Brilliant._

 

“Herm—” Theo’s greeting died as his gaze rested on her, drowning in tears and clutching a glass of wine like a buoy in a hurricane. “Erm… hey. Oh fuck, I’m not—I don’t really do well with—”

 

“Theo, stop blubbering.” Malfoy stepped from the darkness, his hair glowing in the moonlight and Hermione cried harder. “Grab the Firewhisky from my bag, would you?” His gaze was tight and fixated on Hermione as Theo jogged up the steps, disappearing into the house. 

 

“What’s the issue, Granger? Did you get your period or something?” Malfoy asked, leaning his back against the house as he turned his head to stare at her. 

 

A surprised laugh bubbled past her lips and her hand flew up to clamp over her mouth. Malfoy’s snooty arse bringing up a female’s menstruation was just something that demanded to be laughed at. 

 

She sucked in a large breath, exhaling it out over several seconds. “It’s my birthday,” she confessed. 

 

After nearly three glasses of wine, she could confidently say she was rather wasted. Save for a glass of wine on holidays and her birthday, Hermione was not a drinker. But tonight, oh tonight, she could understand the merits. All the hell she’d been through, all the aches in her body… everything felt better for a few hours. 

 

“Is it some kind of Muggle tradition that you have to cry on your birthday?” 

 

Her resounding laugh was sadder than it was before, as her forefinger swirled over the swell of her glass. “I wish I could say it was. Just a shitty day… week… year? Several years if I’m being honest.”

 

Theo reappeared then, tossing a bottle of amber liquid at Malfoy, whose quick reflexes plucked it easily from the air. “Cheers, Granger.” He winked, twisting the cap off and tipping it to his lips. “It’s the swot’s birthday, Theo. I think we ought to celebrate.” The smirk that used to infuriate her graced his lips, but this time it did something altogether silly in her belly. 

 

XXXXX

 

Her birthday party moved inside after the chill of late September refused to be staved off by warming charms. 

 

Huddled in that tiny crumbling safe house, around a roaring fire, Hermione found herself somewhere she never expected. 

 

She was _laughing_. 

 

Real laughs. Deep, painful belly laughs that tore a stitch in her side as she sucked in short dry breaths and tears rolled down her cheeks. 

 

She found she much preferred these types of tears to the ones she’d tasted earlier in the evening. 

 

Hermione was still swimming in her glass of wine, but the boys had done some real damage to the liquor they’d passed back and forth. Malfoy’s demeanor seemed mostly the same, maybe a bit friendlier, with less of a bite to his personality. But Theo? Theo was more talkative than she could ever have imagined and his cheeks were flushed a deep scarlet. 

 

They were playing a silly little game where, in turn, one person sat in the hot seat. The remaining pair could ask a single question and the first person could choose to answer or take a drink. 

 

It was currently Theo’s turn and his watery, bloodshot eyes were staring at the bottle and then back to Hermione with a nervous tick. “I can’t do another shot,” he hiccuped. 

 

“Then answer the question,” Hermione chuckled, drawing her legs up to tuck them under a thin blanket. 

 

Theo’s lips folded together and his nose, adorably, scrunched up as Draco shook with silent laughter next to her on the couch. “Mmmmm can’t do that either.” 

 

“It can’t be _that_ bad, Theo!” She really didn’t care all that much who he’d lost his virginity to, but he refused to answer or comply by the rules and take a blasted drink. “Go’on!’ Her own tongue betrayed her as her words slurred and she finished her final gulp of wine. 

 

Readjusting next to her, Malfoy drew one foot up to slide under his knee as his body opened up to her. He rested his arm across the back of the couch. “Just say it, Theo, she doesn’t care.” 

 

Theo growled something unintelligible and raked his hand through his overgrown hair. 

 

“I didn’t,” he clipped.. 

 

Hermione’s brows tugged together. “Didn’t what?”

 

“Didn’t lose it.”

 

“Lose what?”

 

“Merlin, fuck. Granger, are you that dense?” Theo’s hands fell open in front of him. 

 

“Are we even talking about the same—”

 

Draco erupted into a fit of giggles, doubling over and readjusting in his seat, his thigh now pressed against her foot. Did he notice? She did. She most definitely did. 

 

“I’ve got to piss,” Theo said with a narrowed glare and he walked out of the room, his foot catching on the dusty rug. 

 

Hermione sat up, still confused about what had happened and realized she was all too close to Malfoy now. “What’d I say?”

 

His chin jerked over his shoulder in the way of the bathroom. “He’s a virgin,” Draco said offhandedly, taking a long sip from the bottle of Firewhisky before placing it back on the table. 

 

Hermione slapped her forehead with a flat palm. “Bollocks. I shouldn’t have assumed…”

 

“Your turn, Granger.” There was something about the low fervor in his voice that woke something in her belly and her lashes fluttered as she stared at him on the other end of the sofa. “Did you really fuck Krum?”

 

Rolling her eyes, a chuckle played on her lips. “Why on earth would I lie to you? You wasted your question.” 

 

His lips mashed together as he slumped in his seat petulantly. 

 

“Why are you here?” she asked, taking her turn. Draco’s silver eyes lifted to hers and a wrinkle formed between his brows. 

 

“Moody told us to set up here—”

 

“No. Why are you with the Order? Why did you defect? And why can’t I shake the feeling that you aren’t telling me everything?” 

 

The corners of his jaw clenched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing once. “That’s three questions.”

 

“Humor me, then.” Hermione sat up straighter but didn’t move the leg that was brushing against his. 

 

His eyes flashed dangerously and his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip. “I’m with the Order because I’d have to be a fool to think that my father and the rest of those idiots were doing the right thing by helping plot a genocide. And of all the many things I am, I’m no fool. I defected because… well, that should be obvious by part one. I needed out, and the Order was my only way.” He shrugged and took another pull from the bottle, this time setting it down too roughly, causing her to jump in her seat. “And you think I’m not telling you everything, because I’m not. You don’t deserve to know everything and the fact that you think you do, is exactly why Gryffindors grate my nerves worse than the rest.”

 

The energy between them was tangible; it felt like their magic was pushing against each other’s, demanding the space. 

 

A wicked smile formed on his lips. “My turn. Who do you want to kiss you on your birthday? Me or Theo?” 

 

“What?” Hermione paled, laughing nervously. “What makes you think I want to kiss anyone?” 

 

“It’s bad luck if you don’t get kissed on your birthday. Everyone knows that,” Draco stated seriously, and her gaze flickered briefly to the smirk pulling at his lips. 

 

She snorted. “No one knows that. It’s not a thing.”

 

“I’m sure Theo would oblige, though he’s a bit more inebriated than myself. I mean, imagine all that sloppy tongue. I,” he gestured to himself, “am an excellent kisser. I can provide references. You really wouldn’t want a stint of bad luck, what with everything going on.” His eyebrows waggled comically as his pearly teeth caught the flesh of his lip. 

 

A fierce blush stained her cheeks and she sucked in a sobering breath, shaking her head free of the buzzing that had settled between her ears. 

 

“I’ll just have to take my chances,” she breathed. 

 

“Well, you still have to answer the question.” He smirked. “That’s the rules, after all.”

 

She dragged her fingers through her curls and tossed them to one side as a shy smile crept over her features. Sliding just a few inches closer to him, she stared up at him through her lashes and he stiffened. 

 

Her mouth came painfully close to his, so close she could smell his minty toothpaste mixed with whisky and the lingering scent of his cologne. Her hand snaked past him, wrapping around the glass bottle to her left, and with a grin, she fell back into her corner of the couch. 

 

“Cheeky minx,” he scolded with a thin glare. 

 

She winced as the liquor scorched her throat and Theo stumbled out of the bathroom. “Tired. ‘Appy Birthday, Granger.” 

 

“Guess it’s time for bed.” She shrugged, placing the bottle back on the counter and pulling the blanket from her legs. 

 

Malfoy followed silently, his hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets. She paused outside her door and turned back towards him, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Thank you, Malfoy. It was a shitty day, but it got better.” 

 

“Yeah.” His lips twitched. “You’re not as awful company as I thought.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, shoving him softly in the chest. 

 

With a startling quickness, his hand trapped hers, pressing her palm into the hard plane of his muscle; she could just barely make out the soft thudding of his heart against her fingers. 

 

Her lips parted, gasping audibly, and Malfoy took a step until her back was bumping into her bedroom door. 

 

“Last chance for that kiss, Granger.” 

 

She was intoxicated—not just by the alcohol, although surely that was a contributing factor; there was something about having Malfoy this close to her. Something about the flecks of blue in his gray eyes and the soft curve of his bottom lip… that he kept wetting with that damn tongue. 

 

The hand not splayed over hers moved to her hip, gripping her softly before winding to her lower back. 

 

It was her birthday, after all. 

 

Her fingers curled into his t-shirt and she lifted onto her tiptoes until they were bumping noses. 

 

Their lips hovered just a breath away from each other’s, and she swore the anticipation alone was enough to send her over the edge. 

 

“I still think you’re a prat,” she breathed, her other hand drifting up to slide effortlessly into the hair at the nape of his neck.  

 

He chuckled, the air ghosting over her lips. “I still think you’re an insufferable swot, but that holds no bearings on me wanting to snog you.” 

 

There was no way of telling who was the one who closed the distance when their lips crashed together in such a punishing way. Maybe that’s what this kiss was: a punishment. 

 

They moved brutally against one other. Malfoy’s hands slid around her, his back curving to accommodate her height as she bit down hard on his lip, her tongue quickly darting out to soothe the wound. 

 

Malfoy’s touch drifted down towards her bum, where he gripped the flesh of her arse before lifting her effortlessly. Wrapping her legs around his trim waist, he pressed her firmly into the door. His lips moved on from bruising hers to trail hot, wet kisses down her throat and along her collarbone. 

 

A low whimper slipped past her lips as her lower back arched into him. One of his hands remained firmly on her arse and the other pushed her the sleeve of her cardigan down so he could pay proper attention to the constellation of freckles along her shoulders. 

 

Hermione’s hands tangled in his sugar soft hair, tugging firmly and earning little noises that made her thighs tighten around him. 

 

Gods, not only was she was kissing Malfoy, but she was _really_ kissing Malfoy. Kissing him in a way that held silent questions and answers and promises. Kisses that left her breathless and panting and wanting _more-more-more._

 

His lips latched onto a thin patch of skin just under her ear and she moaned as he sucked and nipped, bruising her. She’d have a love bite come morning, but she, surprisingly enough, couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when his hand was snaking under the hem of her shirt and up the ladder of her ribs, his fingers just brushing the side of her breast. 

 

Hands pulling harder on his hair, she wrenched his head back so she could claim him again, this time diving into his mouth and brushing her tongue firmly against his. Malfoy’s hold on her arse lessened and she slid down his body a touch, and at first she thought he was letting her go. He wasn’t. Both of his hands moved to palm her arse and he pressed his stiff cock against her mound. 

 

A strangled cry escaped as she felt him _there_. His cool touch again snuck up her shirt, this time his fingers climbing up her spine and curling at the base of her neck. 

 

The door behind Malfoy burst open; he unceremoniously dropped her and they both flattened against opposite walls, panting.

 

Theo tumbled out, looking green and Hermione’s eyes grew wide as he reached for the bathroom door handle, only to vomit on the floor. 

 

“Fuck, Nott,” Draco growled, wrapping his arm under his friend to steady him. “Into the loo with you. What, you don’t get laid, gotta make sure no one else does either?” His voice had returned to the teasing tone from earlier and he grinned at Hermione, one eye fluttering in a wink. 

 

She felt a riotous objection between her thighs, her hormones begging him to return even as her mind settled back into reason. “Goodnight, Malfoy,” she panted, her hand twisting the doorknob as she slipped into her room. 

 

Once inside she pressed the door closed and rested her forehead against the worn wood. It was very likely she had just made a very grave error—but damn if it hadn’t tasted good. 

 

XXXXX

 

She slept deeply, maybe _too_ deeply as she didn’t wake until the sun was bright and pouring through the thin curtains of the large room. Her denims were tossed haphazardly on the end of the bed, along with her bra and cardigan, and her t-shirt was bunched up around her waist. 

 

Not all too different from most nights, except that when she blinked her eyes open, she noticed a glass of water and two white tablets. Muggle medicine. Someone had left them, which meant someone had come in, bearing witness to her wild ratty curls and knickers on full display. Brilliant. 

 

After swallowing the medicine and chugging the tepid glass of water, she dressed. There was an unruly mess of butterflies deep in her belly as she emerged from her room. She’d come dangerously close to taking things too far with Malfoy and she decided to forego the spirits for the foreseeable… well, forever. Forever seemed a good amount of time especially with the throbbing under her temples. 

 

“Morning, Granger,” Malfoy said cheerfully from the armchair where Theo had been perched last night. 

 

Instinctively she narrowed her eyes at him. “Malfoy. How’s Theo?” 

 

“Theo’s dying,” Theo croaked, and Hermione shrieked, jumping back from the sofa where he was hidden under a large blanket, his messy hair peeking out from the corner. 

 

“Theo!” she admonished. “Are you ill?” She gripped the fabric and tugged it away, earning a hiss as the sun covered his face. 

 

“Yes,” he groaned, pulling the blanket up again and curling into a fetal position. “Nausea, sensitivity to light and sound, headache…”

 

Hermione snorted loudly, pulling a face as she walked over to the first aid kit and snagging a pain potion. “That’s just a hangover, Theo. You can’t claim illness.” 

 

“Hey, I want one,” Draco whined petulantly.  “I have a headache too.”

 

“No.”

 

He scoffed back at her, his mouth dropping as though she had just insulted his favorite Quidditch team. “Why does Theo get one?”

 

“Because he’s miserable. _You’re_ fine! You’re reading the bloody _Prophet_ ; you’ll be fine with aspirin and that’s far easier to procure than pain potions. Quit whining.” 

 

Malfoy’s stare skimmed from her face and landed on her neck, his lips pulled into a slow, bright smile as Theo emerged from his cave of blankets. 

 

“Better. Thanks, Hermione,” he said, resting his head against the armrest. His smile faded as he looked at her, his features transforming from confusion to embarrassment. 

 

“What?” she asked, her brows pulled low. 

 

“It’s nothing,” Theo said quickly, shaking his head. 

 

She looked back to Malfoy who was vibrating with silent laughter. 

 

“Tell me,” she said firmly and Theo grimaced. 

 

“Well, your hickey is showing… it just caught me by—” 

 

Hermione gasped, her hand flying up to cover the sensitive spot that was now pulsing under her ear. Malfoy, unable to keep quiet, let out a booming laugh as both Theo and Hermione blushed furiously. 

 

“Prat!” She sneered at Malfoy across the room before stomping outside. 

 

“Swot!” he called after her, laughter still trickling out. 

 

XXXXX

 

_A/N: Thank you as always to MCal and InDreams for their Alpha and Beta love. This would be a pot of steaming garbage without you. I own nothing but the mistakes._

  



	5. Five

The day after her birthday, Hermione felt stifled by the sheer amount of annoying Slytherins at Surrey house. Even with a healthy dose of pain potion, Theo grumbled for most of the morning, and Draco seemed far too pleased with himself after their clandestine snog. 

 

She was moments from hexing one or both of them and so she’d announced she was leaving for Canterbury house. 

 

“Wait.” Draco caught her elbow and her breath hitched. She wasn’t ready to talk about their drunken interlude, certainly not twelve hours after the fact. “Your… well—” It was his turn to blush now. “Your neck.” 

 

With an easy flick of his wrist, he pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it just below her ear. His magic licked delightfully against the tender spot below her ear and her skin prickled under its attention. 

 

His timidness dissipated; a slow smirk pulled at his features as he looked down at her. “I’m pretty good at Glamour charms if I say so myself.” Their gazes wandered to the spot on his left arm where they both knew a Dark Mark lingered. 

 

“Thanks, Malfoy,” she said with a gulp, snatching her bag from the chair and trotting down the steps. 

 

At Canterbury house, the energy had shifted since training. The quiet farmhouse had transformed, now housing at least two individual teams. Any member of the Order was welcome in any house at any time, however, they all seemed to gravitate towards the places they felt most comfortable. 

 

The usual noises felt muted and she moved quickly through the house, her brows tight. “Hello?” 

 

“Hello, Hermione!” 

 

Hermione shrieked wildly, pressing herself flat at the wall behind her. Her eyes were round as they landed on Luna, standing there if she’d been there all along. The girl was an anomaly, quick and quiet and purposeful in all her movements. If Luna wanted to, she could be lethal. 

 

“Luna!” Hermione exclaimed, trying to quell the hammering of her heart. “Where is everyone?” 

 

“Out back,” Luna said with a nod towards the kitchen. “Practicing with the dummies. We have two for you to take to Surrey house also.”

 

Through the large windows framing the back door, Hermione watched as her friends tore open and repaired the dummies time and time again. A knot formed in her belly and she wondered if any of them realized what in the hell it was they were practicing for. 

 

Seamus cheered as he slit his dummy with one flick of his wand, only to have it burst into flames a minute later. Fred landed an _Avada_ straight into the chest of his dummy, launching it fifteen feet back, and she felt that one in her knees. 

 

O’Connor had shown them the wand movement and said they could practice on their own but that a special course would be offered after normal training hours for the killing curse as it was to be handled carefully. Hermione didn’t stay. Merlin, was cutting, drowning, and setting them on fire not enough?

 

They were still people. People with families and maybe children. If it came down to their life or hers, or Luna’s or Cho’s or anyone out there? She knew she’d be able to take them down—but she wasn’t going to sit there and celebrate it. 

 

Luna led her out back and they fell into the grass next to each other, Ginny joining moments later.

 

“We’ve got our first mission, Hermione,” Ginny said in a low voice, plucking the grass from between her legs and letting it sift through her fingers. “Two days.”

 

Hermione’s face whipped towards her sweet friend as her mouth attempted in vain to make words. 

 

“It’s not much, shouldn’t be too dangerous.” Ginny smiled. “Raiding a warehouse.” 

 

Hermione’s forehead wrinkled as she shifted in her seat. “Raiding?” 

 

Ginny nodded and something nagged at Hermione’s brain. Raiding? Raiding meant taking something that wasn’t theirs… but then to whom did it belong? If it were Death Eaters, well, then that would be dangerous. If it wasn’t dangerous…

 

“Where?” 

 

It was Luna who answered, nudging her with her shoulder first. “London. Both teams and we have lists of things to get. Mostly first aid, food, extra clothes, and supplies.”

 

Hermione knew before she knew. She stood, brushing the grass off her bum and stomping towards the Apparition point. 

 

XXXXX

 

Bristol house was a different beast altogether. This is where the Officers, for lack of a better term, slept. Meetings happened everywhere between the older generation of Order members, and as she watched them plot their attacks, a sick feeling bloomed in her belly. 

 

These men sat over tables of maps, planning dangerous missions for her friends to embark on. Missions that would cost some of them their lives. 

 

With a heavy step, she stomped up the stairs to the library. 

 

For the sake of propriety, she knocked. For the sake of her rage, she didn’t wait for it to be answered. 

 

Hermione shoved the door open and two sets of alarmed eyes landed on her; the third set belonged to Moody and he was almost… _expectant._  

 

“What, Granger?” Moody growled, waving his walking stick over the table and disillusioning the maps and parchment strewn about. 

 

There were times in her life she felt that she was sorted incorrectly at Hogwarts; this was not one of them. At this moment, she was lionhearted and fucking pissed. “Are you raiding a Muggle warehouse?” she accused, her brows perched high. 

 

Remus’ features pulled together sadly and he rounded the desk, approaching her like a skittish animal. “Hermione, there are things—”

 

“Answer the question,” she managed through gritted teeth. 

 

Shacklebolt was next, his chin tipping up aristocratically. “Miss Granger, you can’t barge in here and demand answers to things you can’t possibly understand.”

 

A violent crimson rage filled her and she took a single step forward. “The hell I can’t! I’m fighting in this war and I have just as much right to answers as anyone.”

 

“You’re very close to being subordinate,” Shacklebolt warned and Remus shot him a pleading look as he closed the distance between them. 

 

“Hermione, I know this is an impossible situation. But you’ve seen the numbers at the safe houses… those are numbers we have to feed. Soon, we will be clothing them and providing medical attention and housing. These are real needs and we have to be able to provide for them. Malfoy’s contribution helps—”

 

“What?” She blinked, cutting him off. 

 

Remus winced and turned from her, carding his hands through his thin, auburn hair. 

 

Moody stepped forward then, his human eye narrowed into a thin slit. “Let me say what these two are trying to dance around, Granger. You are _not_ privy to the information spoken in these war rooms. That is reserved for those who have bled for this cause—”

 

“Oh!” This was personal now and despite her best efforts, she felt hot tears well in the corners of her eyes. “I haven’t? Is that what you’re saying? I haven’t bled for this? Because I don’t remember seeing you in the Department of Mysteries, Moody. Don’t remember seeing the “real” you all of fourth year either—” 

 

“Hermione.” Remus grimaced over Mad-Eye’s shoulder. 

 

“You will _STAND DOWN_ !” Moody’s magic sparked in the air around him and when he struck his walking stick into the hardwood, a small gust of magic shot out from its tip. “If you are unable to do your job, it is noted. You are welcome to return to mainstream Wizarding society or back to the Muggle world. However...” He took a small, pointed step towards her and she felt that lion in her quiver for a moment. “If you decide to stay, you do so as a recruit. You follow orders and you do so _quietly_. You do not have the authority or the clearance to storm into my war room and demand anything. Is that understood?”

 

Hermione’s throat welled with hot friction and she swallowed a few times in a vain attempt to rid herself of the emotion surging inside her. Her eyes again moved towards Remus, the calm in the storm. “Are you raiding a Muggle warehouse?”

 

“Yes,” he answered, his chin tilting to the side and his voice firm. “There is a reason we were chosen to be in charge, Hermione. There is a bigger picture and someone has to be thinking of it.”

 

Her eyes tightened on him. “Understood, _Sir_ ,” she emphasized the last word as she gave a final withering glare to the lot of them before storming from Bristol house. 

 

XXXXX

 

She landed gracefully outside Surrey house, vibrating in her anger and pulled her wand from her pocket. Pacing back and forth and muttering under her breath, she didn’t hear the slam of the front door or the soft thudding of Draco’s feet down the stairs. 

 

“What’s got your wand in such a knot, Granger?” 

 

Her wand arm came up and flourished wildly, her magic striking the thick trunk of a tree to her right. 

 

“This entire thing is bullshite,” she growled, her arms were still trembling, and she wanted to demolish something. 

 

From the corner of her eye, she spotted two practice dummies standing about twenty feet from the edge of the cliff. 

 

She stomped towards them, wand arm trained at one of the chests. Just as she felt her magic swell, Malfoy’s large hands wrapped around the tops of her arms and pinned them to her sides. 

 

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” he asked calmly, his gaze searching her features. 

 

She stared up at him, a sob crashing in her chest that she refused to let go of. “I’m not okay with how this war is being run.” 

 

His lips quirked in a small knowing smile. “Of course you’re not, Golden Girl of Gryffindor and Champion of Underdogs. Wars aren’t won honorably. Were you under the impression they were?” 

 

An invisible force pulled her spine straight and her eyes tightened. “I don’t want to be a part of one that’s not.” 

 

She could feel her arms trembling under his grasp and he offered her a tight smile. “You know this feeling in you right now? It feels manic and wild and… _passionate_?” His voice was silken as he spoke the last word, his fingers tightening around her biceps. “Turn.” He tipped his chin towards the cliff.  

 

Encouraging her to take a dueling stance against the dummies at the end of the field, his hand slid down her arm, lifting it to point once again at their center. 

 

Rage still boiled in her blood, still thrummed dreadfully and delightfully all at once, and when his fingers curled around her hand, she sucked in a quick breath. 

 

“These emotions are all similar. Hate, anger, pride—” His other hand slid to the bony protrusion of her hip and he tugged her back into him until they were flush against each other. “— _Lust_.”  

 

Hermione felt that peculiar mingling of their magic again, pushing and giving and exploring. 

 

“Dark magic demands this feeling. You can summon a Patronus, right?” 

 

She nodded, her chest rising and falling shallowly as his fingers dig into the flesh of her waist. 

 

“You don’t feel that fucking cheerful every time you call it, yeah? What would be the fucking point if you only could use it only when you were blissfully happy.” He snorted and shifted his feet, his pelvis angling against her bum. “But you can draw on the moments when you felt that way and channel that emotion into a spell.” 

 

His fingers tightened on hers, locking her aim before traveling back up her arm and then resting on her hip once more. His touch was feather light and it cause a churning deep in her belly she hadn’t been prepared for. “Draw on your dark moments, let it channel here—” His hand slid to the flat of her belly and she sucked in a breath. Filling her lungs painfully full and then releasing slowly, she focused her frenzied magic where Malfoy’s fingers splayed over her stomach. 

 

“ _Secare._ ”

 

A grotesque ripping sound filled the air as the same lime green from the day prior spilled into the dirt. 

 

Malfoy stepped back, his hands leaving her too suddenly, and she faltered. “How’d it feel?” he asked smugly, his cheek tugging into a lopsided smile. 

 

Hermione took the moment to examine herself; she didn’t feel the way she’d imagined after using dark magic. She felt fine. 

 

“O’Connor might be a wanker, but he was right about that part. It only corrupts if you let it corrupt.”

 

Her lips curled into a smile and a small laugh slipped past her lips. “You just say he’s a wanker because he’s better looking than you,” she teased and his face fell. 

 

“You liar.” 

 

With a shrug, she turned back towards the dummy. This time it engulfed in fire with a snap of her wrist. 

 

XXXXX

 

She stayed out there for a few hours, long after her fury faded. She practiced calling on the emotions Draco had pointed out to her and after a while, she was able to cast them with as much effort as a Patronus. 

 

When her magic felt exhausted, she fell onto the stairs next to Draco, where he had been watching her silently. 

 

“Better,” he remarked with a nod of his head. 

 

Hermione summoned a glass of water and downed it quickly. “Lupin said something today.” 

 

“Yeah?” Malfoy said absently, pulling invisible lint from his denims. 

 

Her eyes caught on the flex of muscle in his forearm and she blinked, trying to bring herself back to the moment. “We were arguing about raiding Muggle properties for supplies. He said even without your contribution—” 

 

Malfoy stiffened, his tongue dragging along his perfect teeth. 

 

“What did he mean by that?” 

 

Carved from stone, Malfoy’s features betrayed nothing. “Probably whatever you think it means. You’re a clever girl.” He gestured, sucking on his tongue with an audible _cluck_.

 

“How much?” she breathed, watching as the tension spread from his jaw to his shoulders. 

 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, standing and turning for the house. Her fingers shot out, wrapping around his wrist and pulling herself up to meet him. 

 

“It might.”

 

He took a moment, studying her features. Two blinks. “Everything in my trust. I emptied it before my father found out I defected.”

 

With a tug of his wrist, he disentangled himself from her grasp and jogged up the stairs, disappearing into the house. 

 

She’d never been punched, not really; she imagined this is what it felt like, breathless and stunned and… bloody _confused_. 

 

Who the hell was Draco Malfoy?

 

XXXXX

 

That evening was tense. Theo had been called to Bristol and the tension in the small home as they moved quietly around each other was _horrifying_. 

 

Something kept nagging at the back of her brain, and she felt like if she ignored it too long it might erupt. She’d already decided who was good and who was bad in her moral spectrum… but then, they all kept surprising her. 

 

Malfoy was the most surprising, only just barely beating out Lupin; both of whom were now decidedly in an ambiguous gray area of right and wrong. This entire summer she had believed he was strutting around like the pompous little git he always had been—but the others seemed to take to him well enough. It was only her with an objection; she was smart enough to see the logical discrepancy. 

 

He sat in the dusty little armchair with one ankle slung over his opposite knee, a Muggle book perched in the space his posture provided. Absently, he kept tugging on his too long hair and fuck it all, he kept wetting that blasted bottom lip. 

 

She was meant to be reading too, honestly. But she was entranced by him, sitting across from her like he hadn’t been the world’s largest prat for six or more years. 

 

His hand reached up to massage the back of his neck and his shirt rode up on his bicep, showcasing the slow flexing of his muscle and she felt it just _there_.

 

There in a space that existed in the chasm of her heart and somehow also in the apex of her thighs. 

 

Against her ribs, her heart kept up a punishing pace and she tittered on her next course of action. But then, fuck it. She was Gryffindor after all. 

 

She tossed her book to the side and stood, earning a wary glare from Malfoy. With an arched brow, she stood in front of him and plucked the book from his hands, tossing it onto the couch behind her unceremoniously. 

 

Pale brows tugged together as he rested his head back against the chair to stare up at her. “Granger?” His voice was low and husky and she lifted a knee to rest it in the small space between his hip and the side of the chair, the other following until she was seated in his lap. 

 

His lips curled up happily as his hands settled at the junction of her hips and pulled her tighter into his lap. 

 

“Something I can help you with?” His brow twitched. 

 

She cradled the back of his neck and pulled him up and into her. “Shut up, Malfoy,” she breathed, lust and want thrashing under her skin, roaring in her ears.. 

 

Draco’s hands gripped the thick of her hips for a moment before skimming up her spine, one hand wrapping around the base of her neck and he ghosted closer. “Granger, if you haven’t figured it out yet, I’ll take whatever I can get when it comes to you.” 

 

Their lips crashed together much in the way they had the night before, dancing between the line of pleasure and pain as their hands ripped at each other's clothing. Malfoy’s shirt was tugged from his shoulders and tossed behind her, her shirt following almost immediately. 

 

His silver gaze darkened upon seeing the swell of her breasts beneath her pale blue cotton bra. Tugging the strap down, his tongue connected the freckles on her shoulder, and her lower back arched into him, accompanying a breathy little moan. 

 

The pads of his fingers skimmed over the thin fabric of her bra, pebbling her nipples as his mouth latched onto the curve of her breast. With a knowing smile, she realized he liked leaving evidence of his kiss as he marked her chest with another love bite. 

 

Carding her hands through his hair she pulled him from his affections to claim his mouth as he bucked his hips into her so she could feel his arousal between her legs. 

 

Her head fell back, curls tickling her lower back as his lips moved down her throat to the valley between her breasts. Hastily, he pulled the cups of her bra down and filled his palms and his mouth with her newly exposed flesh. She felt the clasp on the back give way and it was tossed to the carpet. 

 

Cursing under his breath, he wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her firmly against him as he maneuvered (only somewhat awkwardly) to standing and her ankles locked behind him as they moved through the house. 

 

His mouth never left her skin, to the point she almost felt indecent about the amount of time she spent whimpering. In a heap, he dropped her onto the bed, his fingers making quick work of his trousers. 

 

The moment shifted as he stared down at her, curls wild and bare-breasted. As his heated gaze roamed her body, he silently asked permission before making another move. 

 

It was her hands to respond, slipping the button of her denims loose and tugging them lower until her knickers were in view. His shoulders sagged in relief and roughly he pulled them from her legs. Gripping her hard under her arms, he shoved her further towards the center of her bed and then crawled up her body, sliding between her thighs. Two thin pieces of cotton were the only things keeping them from each other. 

 

His prick felt hot against her and Hermione’s fingers drifted from his sculpted shoulders and dipped under the waistband of his pants, palming his cock and pumping it twice. His body shook as he thrust into her palm and then removed himself from her touch, sliding to her side and capturing her mouth. 

 

Confidently, his tongue dipped into her mouth, his hand sliding from her breast to the seam of her knickers. A few firm circles on her clit caused her to cry out wantonly and he slipped two fingers inside her, curling and pumping in time with the thrusts of his tongue until she was unraveling.

 

“You’re soaked, Granger,” he praised her, his lips brushing against her ear and she whimpered— she _fucking whimpered_. 

 

She’d been with Viktor, more than once, but it wasn’t like this. This made her feel fevered and wild and _wanted_. Each word of praise from his mouth, each wet kiss against her skin, left her feeling worshipped. 

 

“Granger,” he pleaded as the heel of his palm pressed against her throbbing bud. Trembling at the delightful friction, her thighs clamped together and she moaned. 

 

Hitching a leg over him, Hermione straddled his lap. The bloody fool smirked, his tongue dragging along his lower lip before his teeth dragged over it. “By all means, Granger. I’m at your leisure.”

 

She rolled her eyes before reaching between them and gripping the length of him, and sliding it along her folds, shuddering when it pressed against her clit. 

 

There was almost a sick pleasure in watching the tendons of his muscle thicken and tighten as she teased his head by skimming her entrance. Her jaw fell open as she sheathed herself on his cock, but it was nothing compared to the feral growl that left his throat as his eyes fluttered closed and his fingers tightened on the thick of her thighs. 

 

“Fuck,” he breathed as she began to rock back and forth, the lean muscles of his stomach tightening as she moved slowly on top of him. 

 

“Granger,” he warned, his voice low and husky. 

 

She hummed in response, her palms resting on his chest as she rolled her hips back and forth. 

 

“I— I can’t,” he confessed, his eyes clenched and body trembling under her. 

 

She slipped a hand between them, rubbing rhythmically at her sensitive bud as she rode him with slow, purposeful thrusts. Within a minute her head had fallen back as her orgasm washed over, Malfoy’s hands tight on her hips as he helped see her through. 

 

Flipping her onto her back, he drove hard into her. Their chests pressed together and one of his hands moved to hitch her knee up over his hip as he set a brutal pace. 

 

The flesh of her thigh and arse were gripped so tightly that she was sure that she’d have fingertipped shaped bruises there tomorrow. As he released into her, his hips spasmed and he rocked into her a final time. 

 

Their breaths matched, rising and falling in heavy sync, and instead of shrinking away from him, she draped an arm around his middle. 

 

They fell asleep without a single word, laying the wrong way on the bed, legs tangled together. 

 

XXXXX

 

Hermione awoke feeling far too hot. 

 

As she blinked awake she realized it was because Draco Malfoy had latched onto her like a squid and was breathing hot and heavy against her neck as his naked body curled around her. 

 

A violent crash against the bedroom window caused them both to startle awake and she sat up, clutching the loose sheet to her body. 

 

“What the fu—” Malfoy’s face screwed up in confusion as he stared around the room, eyes settling on a wild-eyed, long-eared grey owl outside the window, staring at him with a harsh, judging glare. 

 

Hermione chuckled under her breath and reached for her robe slung over the footboard. “Gofer.”

 

Stepping onto the porch, Hermione tightened her robe as her focus settled on the scene before her. Her hand flew up to her mouth, stifling a laugh. Hedwig had also arrived, ever the calm and consistent snowy owl, his feathers unruffled and a small scroll tied to his ankle. Gofer, however, was unable to keep his calm in such situations. His wings were spread wide as he bounced along the railing in some futile attempt for dominance or other such nonsense. Even Hedwig seemed to grimace away from Gofer’s display.

 

“Gofer, what on earth are you doing?” She chuckled as he perched precariously on one foot, offering his missive to her. 

 

He hooted at Hedwig, who flinched away from the noise. 

 

“You too?” she asked kindly, delicately removing the parchment from the white owl's leg. 

 

Hedwig glared from the corner of her eyes at Gofer, who was, for all intents and purposes, peacocking, and then took off into a graceful flight. Gofer hooted after her and his wings spread further as he hopped back and forth for a minute before flapping his wings and attempting flight. _Attempting_. This is because he actually just toppled into the dirt on the other side of the porch before hooting angrily and scowling at her, then taking off through the branches. 

 

With a small laugh, she unfurled the first parchment. 

 

In Moody’s messy scrawl, it read: 

 

_Back to Grimmauld by noon._

 

Great. A small snort escaped as the scroll curled in on itself. It was time to receive her punishment for her ‘insubordination’. 

 

With a loud sigh, she unrolled the second and her breath caught painfully. 

 

_Headed home. Go to Grimmauld. H+R_

 

XXXXX

 

**A/N: The muse was kind this weekend and I was able to get some words down. So as promised, as one chapter is drafted, another shall be posted! Endless thanks to MCal and Indreams, by Alpha and Beta who are so invaluable to me in this process.**

 

**I'll admit, I'm a bit nervous to post this chapter. This is a much quicker burn than I'm used to but I've got some big plans coming up and hopefully this fit well into their dynamic. *Nervous chittering***

 

**I promise to keep my fingers typing so I can get another update to you soon! Would love to know what you think, if you have time!**

 

**Xo - LK**

  



	6. Six

As soon as she crossed the threshold of Grimmauld she could feel the difference in the air. 

 

Her boys were back. 

 

Following the noises filtering up from the downstairs kitchen, Hermione’s feet carried her quickly through the familiar space. 

 

Something fissured deep inside her as she rounded the corner and saw them sitting at the worn table. Their hair was too long, their cheeks sunken. There was a dullness to their eyes, even as their mouths curled into familiar smiles. 

 

Harry spoke first, his brows tugging together over his crooked frames. “Mione—” Quicker than she thought possible, he was out of his seat, wrapping his arms around her middle and lifting her until her toes came effortlessly off the stained tile. 

 

When she touched back down she took his stubbled cheeks in her hands, inspecting him closely. “Did you find—”

 

He shook his head immediately, his eyes trained on the floor.

 

Ron stood slowly, wincing from an invisible injury and she rushed into him; wrapping her arms around him, she gasped at how frail he was. She’d known Ron for the better part of a decade and in all those years, she could never have imagined him so thin. 

 

“What have you two been doing this whole time?” Hermione’s voice was low, although she wasn’t sure the house held anyone but the three of them and Kreacher. 

 

Harry and Ron shared a look, their gazes darkening; Harry was the one to speak first. “It’s different out there, Hermione. Snatchers are bloody everywhere and even in Muggle London things are in strife. We’ve been jumping from place to place, but it feels like stabbing in the dark. I don’t know what to do—” His voice cracked and his normally clear green eyes turned misty. 

 

“Shh, shh,” she calmed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We’ll figure it out.”

 

“Good!” Moody’s voice boomed, as the back door slammed shut. “You’re all here. Sit, this won’t take long.” 

 

The three of them did as requested, quickly taking seats close to each other. Hermione seemed to be the only one truly alert, her body trembling with nervous energy, but the boys didn’t seem to have enough in them to muster even that. 

 

“Granger, you’ve requested to join the two on their search for the Horcruxes?”

 

“Yes, sir. Whatever I can do to help,” she agreed readily, her eyes floating over the boys who wouldn’t, or couldn’t, look at her. 

 

Moody grunted. “That’s fine. The safe houses are well prepared and the teams will be going out on their first missions soon enough. We’re pulling Potter and Weasley from the field for the time being while we work with the reconnaissance team on finding a lead on these bloody trinkets. Harry, Grimmauld is yours. It remains the official Order Headquarters, but Bristol acts as home base for now. Stay here, stay in the safe houses, I don’t bloody care. But you are not to go out on assignment without express permission from either myself, Shacklebolt, or Lupin. Is that understood?” 

 

The pair of wizards nodded and Hermione huffed a little disbelieving breath through her nose. Since when did they shut up and take orders? 

 

“Granger, continue your work with Malfoy and Nott. I want to be in Lestrange Manor in no more than a month. Find a way around those blasted curses and come up with a list of everywhere that cup might be hiding. Understood?”

 

Hermione’s palm flattened on the knotted wood. “Yes sir, but I thought—” 

 

“This  _ is _ the Horcrux Hunt now, Granger. Once missions and attacks are occurring regularly, it’s not safe for Potter to be out traipsing the countryside. He had three months. He came back empty-handed,” Moody said offhandedly, not noticing the way it made Harry flinch. “The Order is now responsible for tracking them down. Now Harry, because of the strange connection you have with You-Know-Who you will be on those missions to retrieve them.

 

“Ron, as soon as you’re able we’ll want you joining in the field teams as well as with Harry when he needs you. Those missions will be far and few between, so it’s best that we use you as much as possible elsewhere.” 

 

_ Use _ . Hermione’s molars ground together. 

 

“Granger, keep up what you’re doing and for the love of Merlin,” he began to shout, his walking stick cracking into the tile. “Find a way to destroy those bloody Horcruxes!”

 

Moody disappeared out the back door without another word and the three of them jumped in their seats at the sound of his Apparition. 

 

“Well, guess that’s that,” Harry said with a tired voice, dragging his fingers through his too long hair. 

 

“I need a shower,” Ron said, pushing his chair back from the table. 

 

Hermione’s hand shot out to wrap around his bony wrist. “Wait! I— what happened?” Something painful crashed around in her chest as she looked at the ghosts of the boys she’d known all these years. 

 

“Tomorrow?” Harry asked with a thin smile. 

 

Her eyes washed over his gaunt features and she knew there were no answers to be found. She nodded her agreement before continuing, “Do you want to stay here? Everyone’s at Canterbury if you want to head there. Surrey house—” She sucked in a quick breath before she mentioned that Surrey house was most definitely full. “Well, Canterbury has room. Ginny and the twins are there,” she added hopefully. 

 

“Not tonight,” Harry said, standing with a tight smile. He reached down to place a kiss on her curls at the exact moment that Ron’s hand came down on her shoulder in a gentle squeeze. “See you tomorrow.”

 

The two of them left, Ron limping from the room, with a heavy trudge to their step and Hermione felt her throat constrict. 

 

“Tomorrow, then.”

 

XXXXX

 

She thought to stay at Grimmauld, but with the boys being in the state they were, she reckoned they might want some time to rest. However, heading back to Surrey house also meant confronting the blond wizard she’d invited into her bed. 

 

The air was getting dreadfully colder; with each passing day it seemed to bite more nastily through her clothes. The trees still held on greedily to as many of their leaves as they could, but the ones they had shed crunched under her feet as she approached Surrey house. 

 

It was still just midday, even though having seen the boys in such a way left her thinking it was nearing supper. Fighting off a shiver, she rushed inside and two sets of eyes floated up to hers. 

 

Malfoy’s gaze wavered—he was nervous. It was strangely adorable and she walked to join them in the sitting area easily, grinning when she noticed the way his chest deflated with a relieved sigh. 

 

“Well?” Malfoy asked, his pale brows arched high on his forehead. 

 

She sucked in a breath and let her fingers rake through her curls until they snagged. “They’re back.”

 

“Did they find what they were looking for?” Theo asked, leaning forward from the sofa to look at her. 

 

“No,” she said thickly. “But Moody said we need to figure out Lestrange Manor. We have one month.” 

 

The two boys shared a look and nodded once, standing from their seats and heading for the dining room table. 

 

XXXXX

 

“I think we need to really consider the fact that the cup might not be at Lestrange Manor. Did Moody tell you why he thinks Bellatrix has it?” Theo asked curiously, running his hands through his dark hair. 

 

Her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head to one side. “Yes. Yes, he told me all of his inner circle secrets and then we sat up and gabbed about the latest  _ Witch Weekly  _ edition.”

 

Malfoy chuckled quietly as Theo sat back in his chair, unphased by her snark. 

 

“The most obvious places will be the study, the armory, possibly her boudoir—” Theo shivered, and Hermione pulled a face as well. The thought of Bellatrix Lestrange doing everyday things like choosing what to wear or brushing her hair didn’t make sense. It was better to imagine her as the monster they all knew. 

 

“Okay,” Hermione said, leaning forward and resting her chin in her palm. “We need to make a list of most likely curses and counter-curses, as well as come up with a plan to enter the house so that teams are covering each area.”

 

“Well, the teams won’t have much an issue with the curses. Everyone is half at least, right?” Malfoy asked, shuffling through their parchments for a list of the teams. 

 

Hermione’s head tilted to the side. “Half?”

 

“Yeah, half-blooded.” Malfoy didn’t look up at her, luckily for him. Because if he had, he would have seen the rage burning in her eyes. “What was Thomas, again?” he added absently.

 

“Excuse me?” she hissed. 

 

Theo’s gaze flickered between the two of them and with a tight grimace he sat forward, speaking only to Hermione. “It’s like I said. The wards are meant to keep out Muggles and Muggle-borns. I move freely around my house and Malfoy Manor without worry I’m about to have entrails ripped from my body. It’s not personal—”

 

Malfoy’s gray eyes lifted to her as Theo spoke, and she watched the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. 

 

“Feels fucking personal to me,” Hermione said, shoving away from the table, letting her chair crash to the floor. 

 

XXXXX

 

Back in her room, Hermione perched on her bed with  _ Ancient Black Magic in a Modern World  _ laid open next to her. They could find all the bloody Horcruxes tomorrow and still, they wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it. 

 

She found herself reading the same passages, again and again, unable to concentrate when her mind was still seated at the table with the Slytherin duo. How was it that everyone else seemed so capable of separating their feelings from this war. 

 

They could practice killing people with easy smiles, they could talk about Muggles being gutted for stepping foot on a Pureblood estate. Hell, they could raid— _ steal from _ —Muggles without a hit to their conscience. 

 

Not for her. Everything felt too close to home, and maybe that’s because she was one of the few in this fight that was actually a Muggle-born. Sure, it was great to have allies—wonderful to know that Pure and Half-blood witches and wizards were willing to lay down their lives to protect her claim to magic—but if this war ended unfavorably, it was  _ her _ kind to be exterminated. 

 

Everything felt real and raw and fucking lonely. Last night, finding a little bit of comfort in Malfoy’s arms had been the least alone she’d felt in months, and she found that even though the Wizengamot was still out on whether or not he was a decent human being, he was warm and here and a damn good kisser. 

 

Was she really supposed to be sleeping with people she didn’t necessarily like? That was a gray area, to be sure. But then again—everyone else seemed to step over that line into the gray area during times of war. So if she stayed true to her convictions on avoiding murder and robbing Muggles of their supplies, perhaps it was okay to overlook this little bit of weakness. 

 

There was a soft knock on her door and Hermione jumped from her seat, her heart quickening immediately. She fluffed her hair, slapped her cheeks lightly for a touch of color and adjusted her loose pajama bottoms and camisole. In war, this was as good as Draco Malfoy was getting from her. 

 

However, upon pulling the door open, her brows fell. 

 

_Theo._  

 

“Yes?” Hermione swallowed thickly, feeling a blush crawl up her neck. Surely he didn’t know that she’d been preparing to invite Malfoy into her bed, but her embarrassment regarding the matter was still present.

 

“We finished the lists you were talking about. They’re on the table.” 

 

Hermione shuffled her bare feet and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Thank you. I’ll have a look and see what we can do about counter-curses.” 

 

“I— I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I hope you know that by Draco and I being here… well, that’s our way of showing how much we don’t believe it. Draco is a bit less apt to talk about it than I am, but—” Theo paused, appearing to consider his words carefully. “You’re quite the witch. No one in this house doubts you or your magic.”

 

Hermione’s shoulders fell and a soft smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you, Theo. I’m sorry I overreacted. Everything is getting to me these days,” she admitted with a blush. 

 

“I’m sure you’ll find something to ease the stress.” He smirked and Hermione felt her chest flutter. He knew about her and Malfoy. “I told you to be careful,” he said with a teasing edge to his voice. 

 

Her chin tucked into her chest and she chuckled. “I need to work on my vigilance, it seems.” 

 

Theo laughed, shoving his fists in his trouser pockets. “I’m off to bed. Goodnight, Granger.”

 

He turned, offering her a final lopsided smile over his shoulder. 

 

“Night.”

 

The door across the hall closed tightly and she felt the shimmer of a silencing ward go up. She rolled her eyes and padded down the hall towards the main room, heading straight for the table to inspect the lists Theo had mentioned. As long as they were able to practice the appropriate counter curses, and had a plan to identify them—they could do this. 

 

Hermione’s eyes went wide as she stared at the twelve inches of parchment littered with curses ranging from the mildly offensive to the grotesquely fatal. 

 

The creaking of the floorboards behind her set loose a snitch in her ribs, but she didn’t take her eyes from the paper in her hands. Not even when his breath fanned over her mostly bare shoulder or when his long fingers curled around her bony hip. 

 

“Are you still cross with me for having a shitty, bigoted family?” he asked, his lips brushing against her curls. 

 

She bit down a smile as his forefinger slid under the waistband of her rolled sweatpants, moving no further south, instead just resting against the thin skin of her hip. 

 

“It’s safe to assume I’m always cross with you and will be for the foreseeable future.” She kept her tone as brusque as possible but the ache between her thighs intensified as he pressed his firm body against her. 

 

“If last night was a one-off, I need you to tell me now, Granger.” He pulled her hips until her arse was pressing delightfully against his lap. 

 

She sucked in a shaky breath, her head resting back on his chest. “And why do you need to know that right now?”

 

“Because I’m about to fuck you on this table if you don’t tell me otherwise.” His words paired with his length pressing into her bum made her breath hitch and the finger resting just under her waistband slid an inch further, running along the crease of her mound. 

 

Shifting against him so she could look over her shoulder, she caught his intense stare and shook her head. “I don’t think I can handle anything serious—” 

 

His lips pulled into a tight line, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not asking to go steady, Granger. I’m asking if you want me tonight.” 

 

Her hand snaked behind her, around the back of his neck, sliding through his soft hair and pulling his face closer to hers. Constant vigilance and gray areas be damned. 

 

“Yes.” She swallowed, blinking twice. 

 

Draco’s face dipped closer towards her. “Say it.”

 

“I want you,” she breathed, so quietly that his eyes flickered as he tried to make sense of the words.

 

“Thank fucking Merlin,” he growled, his lips crashing onto hers as his hand simultaneously dipped into her knickers. He swallowed her whimpers as the pad of his forefinger found her clit. 

 

Gripping his hair with a renewed vigor, she earned a throaty groan. Arching her lower back, her bum pressed into him and the new angle allowed Draco to sink his fingers inside her, dragging the slick from inside her. 

 

She broke the kiss as he pressed inside her, her head falling against his shoulder as he moved his fingers inside of her; the heel of his palm kept a delicious pressure on her throbbing bud. Wet kisses trailed wherever he could reach, along the taut tendons of her throat and on her shoulders. 

 

The hand still resting on her hip slid up her flat belly, roughly grabbing at her breast and never had she been more thankful for a Silencing Charm than this moment. She wasn’t sure she would be able to bite back the wanton little noises that were slipping over her tongue. 

 

“Draco,” she keened, bucking her hips against her hand. 

 

A small growl rumbled in his chest. “Say it again.” His fingers slipped from inside her and she gasped, repeating his name twice as her hands flew to the table in front of her. 

 

Grabbing her hips, Draco turned her forcefully. Everything about his touch was fevered and wild, setting her skin ablaze with each firm grip of her flesh. With a handful of her arse, he lifted her, setting her onto of the parchments strewn over the table and pulling her rolled sweats from her hips. 

 

He nestled himself between her thighs, his fingers curling behind her knees and pulling her forward until she could feel his erection through her cotton knickers. Their arms wove around each other, twisting and pulling and kneading until they were just breathy pants and fevered kisses. 

 

Hermione worked quickly on the buttons of his denims, freeing his prick and earning a groan as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft. 

 

“Need…to…hmphhhh—” His lips brushed against her neck as he thrust his cock into her hand. “Be inside you.” 

 

He yanked on the straps of her tank top until it was pooled at her waist and pressed her down until she was laying flat on her back. Dragging his tongue over her nipple, his free hand groped her until her back arched off the table.  

 

Hermione’s knees hitched around his hips, pulling him closer. His erection was hot against her thigh and she couldn’t believe it but she was begging shamefully into his ear. Once he was again staring down at her, his eyes darkened to the shade of a storm cloud, and he pumped his own prick a few times as he gave a final pluck to her hard nipple. 

 

Coating his length with her slick, his lids fluttered closed briefly before he ground his teeth together and plunged inside her. She cried out, her hands flying up to cover her mouth as his fingers curled into the hard bones of her hips, no doubt leaving fingertip-shaped bruises in their wake. 

 

She couldn’t imagine ever wanting sex that didn’t feel exactly like this; his touch was everywhere all at once and she lost herself in his rough thrusts as he drove into her. 

 

“You feel so fucking good. So fucking wet,” he praised her, one of his hands slipping between them to rub mercilessly at her clit. 

 

She whimpered under his touch and when he bent to again latch onto her breast, she tumbled over the edge. Her orgasm washed over her as her thighs tightened around his hips and she pulled him flush against her. 

 

“Fuck,” he growled, as he found his release, his hips twitching as he caged his arms around her. 

 

They lay there for a moment, her fingers pulling through his hair and his heavy breath hot on her neck. This was the part where everything was supposed to crash down, the reality of the moment, the guilt and shame. 

 

She waited, but it didn’t. Not even as he withdrew from her and stared at her with that curious little smile he wore when he couldn’t figure something out. 

 

His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, helping to pull her to a seated position. Cradling her cheeks between both palms, he let his thumbs drag along her cheekbones and he tilted her face so he could see her properly. 

 

There was a moment when his lips parted that she was terrified he’d say something to ruin it all, after all, it wouldn’t be surprising. The corner of his lips twitched and instead, he kissed her again, pillowing her bottom lip between his and tangling his fingers in her hair. 

 

This kiss was different than the ones they’d had moments before and it made her stomach flop delightfully. It was slow, almost lazy, and exactly the kind of kiss that she would never have expected from Draco Malfoy. Their lips parted and he pressed his forehead against hers, letting out a long breath. He reached down and helped pull up her sweats and pulled the straps of her tank top back up until she was decent. 

 

She swallowed, her hands sliding from his chest. Desperately, she wanted to ask him to crawl into bed next to her because while the sex was wonderful, it wouldn’t fight the loneliness for long. Her lips parted, about to ask…

 

He turned from her touch, fussing the button of his jeans and running his hands through his overgrown hair. 

 

She sat, her shoulders slumped, on the messed parchments under her bum and chewed on her lip. 

 

Malfoy stopped, hand hovering over her door. “You coming?” 

 

Her teeth cut painfully into her bottom lip as she tried to hide the grin forming. She hopped off the table and padded quickly past him and into her room. 

 

XXXXX

**A/N: I am fully aware that this is just a ridiculous amount of updates in a row!** **_But,_ ** **as long as I still have ten chapters in the bank, I will continue to post new chapters as I draft them! Last night was a monster one and I am exceedingly impatient to share the rest of this story with you. I love getting your asks on my Tumblr and your PM’s with your guesses about the story! I will say that** **_at least_ ** **one person has correctly guessed! But, alas, I will never say who.** **_Whomp whomp whomp._ **

 

**Check out the Appendix on AO3 and/or Tumblr for a new pretty for mood board for Grimmauld!**

 

**And wish me luck! I’m sitting down to write another chapter now and I will work as quickly as I can so I can update again!**

 

**Endless thanks to my Alpha and Beta, MCal and InDreams. I would be oh so lost without you. Mwah!**

  
  



	7. Seven

There was a nervous tension living in Grimmauld. While the attention of one Draco Malfoy was enough to distract her for an evening, the morning brought back a new wave of anxiety as she sat on the dusty loveseat in the parlour of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

 

The boys were silent, unable to look up at her. All she wanted was to fall on her knees in front of them and beg for them to come back. Not to Grimmauld, they’d already done that. But come back from wherever their summer had taken their minds. They were shells of themselves, cheeks hollowed and purple shadows stained under their eyes. 

 

“Could you just talk to me?” Hermione tried, leaning forward until her elbows rested on her knees. 

 

Harry jumped at the sound of her voice and blinked a few times in her direction. “I don’t know, Hermione. It’s just— it was a lot and it yielded nothing and I think that’s the part that pisses me off the most.” His hands dragged roughly down his face as he turned to stare out the window. 

 

“Just... start at the beginning. You can tell me anything—”

 

“You wouldn’t understand, ‘Mione,” Ron said quietly. 

 

Hermione snorted at that, rising to her feet simply for something to do and then quickly moving behind the sofa. “ _ Try me _ .”

 

Something dangerous flashed in Ron’s normally bright blue eyes. “At first it was fine, we chased down a couple clues that led nowhere. But then we started running into Snatchers… they were relentless and fucking crafty. They got past our wards time and time again; once they jumped into a side-along and the fight back on the ground was… messy. We almost—” Ron’s eyes clenched shut. “It was too close."

 

Ron continued, all while Harry’s stare remained locked on the rain outside. “Food was scarce and it’d often be days without eating, sometimes surviving off fucking berries that we knew would make us shit ourselves and dirt just so we could sleep. 

 

“Every fucking time we ran into them it was a close call. Every time we thought we were  going to fucking to die and it just became easier to—” Ron’s lips tightened and he gestured at the space between them expectantly. 

 

Hermione’s brows fell heavy over her eyes. “Easier to what?” 

 

The resounding silence was heavy as Ron looked to Harry, his jaw clenched tightly. 

 

“To kill them first. Before they could try to put us in the ground,” Harry gritted out and a small gasp slipped past Hermione’s lips. 

 

“ _ What _ ?” she hissed in a barely there whisper. “You should have come back here.” Her throat was tight as she spoke. “At least you should have come back for me; I’m much better at wards than you are! I could have done something. You can’t just kill—”

 

Ron shot from his seat, his face turning a dull shade of red as his anger swelled. “You don’t get to judge what we had to do to survive this summer. You think we're happy with how things went? To have that blood on our hands and still no fucking Horcruxes? You don’t know what it was like. Everything starts running together and you don’t care who the fuck is holding the other wand because all you want to do is survive one more day.”

 

Hermione was a logical person. She could see past their confession and instead choose to see her beloved friends, the boys with smudged glasses and dirty noses. But it shattered her. This war was going to change them all irreparably and Hermione wasn’t sure if that was a price she was willing to pay. 

 

XXXXX

 

That night, Malfoy lay next to her, arm tucked behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

 

Three nights in a row she’d found some reprieve from this wretched war with him buried inside her, and while it possibly wasn’t the most intelligent move, it was the closest to happy she’d been in some time. 

 

Rolling onto her side, she perched her head on her hand and stared curiously at him. “Tell me something about yourself.”

 

Malfoy snorted, bringing his second hand behind his head and she keened over the tensing of the muscles on his torso as he did. “There’s nothing to tell.”

 

“That can’t be true.” She shifted so she was resting on her belly, the loose sheet pooling down by her waist. 

 

“You don’t want to know anything about me, Granger. Trust me.” 

 

Her eyes narrowed in his direction.“I do. I’m sleeping with you and I want to know something about you; why are you always such a prat?” Her irritation mounted as his smirk widened, almost as if the two were tethered. 

 

He released a heavy sigh. “Fine, Granger. What do you want to know?” 

 

Chewing on the side of her cheek, one of her eyes squinted closed. “What did you like to do as a child?” 

 

“Normal things.” He shrugged and Hermione let out a disgruntled little noise and moved to slap his chest. Quicker than she thought possible, his long fingers wrapped around her wrist and he made a clucking noise with his tongue and teeth as he pulled her closer. 

 

With every fiber of her being, she tried to hide her smile as she rested her chest on his, relishing the feeling of his breath rising and falling. 

 

“I liked to read, funny enough. Malfoy Manor boasts a pretty impressive library—” 

 

“ _ Really _ ?” Hermione gaped excitedly, bringing her head up to stare into his eyes. 

 

He laughed brightly and her brows furrowed. Had she ever heard him laugh before? She’d heard him snicker… chuckle maybe. But  _ laugh _ ? Altogether, it was pleasant, albeit peculiar. 

 

“Hm, I liked to have my friends over. Liked to go to their places, also. I liked flying—I’m really not all that interesting.” 

 

Hermione made a humming noise in the back of her throat and her finger trailed along the shallow valley down the center of his chest, twirling around the iridescent scars littered there. Without thinking, she leaned down to press her lips to the closest one and he shivered under her touch. “First kiss?”

 

“Pansy,” Malfoy replied quickly. 

 

With a resounding groan, Hermione buried her face in his pale chest and laughed lightly. “That’s just so predictable!  _ Pansy _ ?”

 

“Why, who was yours? Potter?” His lopsided frown warmed a little spot in her heart but she still scoffed and nudged him with her bare chest.

 

“Don’t be gross! Harry’s like my brother—it was Viktor.” 

 

Malfoy groaned, rolling them until she was on her back. “Ugh, him again?” 

 

A blush crawled up her chest and in a surprisingly tender moment, he brushed the curls from her face and stared down at her with a strange intensity. 

 

“What?” she asked quietly, cheeks flaming, as she wrapped her arms around his trim waist. 

 

There was a quick twitch to the corner of his mouth. “You’re just nothing like I thought, Granger.”

 

Something tugged at the cobwebs around her heart; maybe it was his vulnerability or the way his cheek tinted to a rosy hue, but honesty tumbled past her lips before she could think twice of it. “Yeah? You too.” 

 

Malfoy’s gaze lingered on her mouth, but she was the one to close the distance and capture his lips between hers. It was that different type of kiss again—the kind that left her breathless for an entirely different reason.

 

XXXXX

 

Hermione stared at the bare cupboards for quite awhile, her stomach rumbling in an angry protest with each passing minute. A sudden noise came from down the hall and Hermione prepared herself for the arrival of the Slytherins. 

 

“What’re you making?” Malfoy drawled, leaning on the round table in the corner with his bum. 

 

Hermione sighed, her gaze barely flickering over to him, before catching on Theo leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. 

 

“I mean… at this point we are looking at beans and toast…  _ again _ .” Hermione missed food.  _ real _ food. Hogwarts feasts and her mother’s lasagna. She wanted Chicken a la King and shepherd’s pie and anything that didn’t come in the form of dried meat or canned goods. 

 

It was Theo to break the silence as he kicked off the wall. “Let’s go out! It’s not like we’re banned from leaving the safe houses or anything.”

 

Hermione’s stomach keened at his words, imagining a steaming plate of fish and chips drenched in vinegar but her mind, annoyingly, objected. “That’s not a good idea. We could be seen or compromised… something…” Her argument was thinly veiled and she bloody well knew it, but regardless of the reasoning behind her opposition, it was still a bad idea. 

 

“We’ve been in hiding for months, Granger,” Malfoy huffed. “Surely we can venture to an obscure part of London for a bite to eat and then right back under the bootheels that are keeping us so perfectly in line.” 

 

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Hermione’s head bobbed back and forth a few times. “I don’t know. Feels like an unnecessary risk.” 

 

“Just think about it,” Theo said with a sneaky little smile. “The next time you have real food might be years from now. Who knows how long this war will last and this could be your last chance for real, honest to goodness, melted, cheesy, fried things. Fucking Merlin knows thats all I want right now—”

 

“You’re so boring, Nott. Really? All the things in this life to be enjoyed.” Malfoy’s wicked gaze flittered over to Hermione and she felt a blush creep up her throat. “And you think of cheese.” 

 

“Mate, have you ever even had chips smothered in cheese?” Theo scoffed, heading for the front door. 

 

Malfoy’s lips tilted up in a cheeky smirk. “I forget you’re a virgin—of course melted cheese get’s your prick hard.”

 

At that final jabbing insult, Malfoy also moved for the door too and jerked his chin for Hermione to follow. For the sake of her growling stomach, she listened. 

 

XXXXX

 

They really did go somewhere obscure and in the middle of nowhere. And since the boys didn’t seem to know many places off the map, Hermione took them to a little pub in the town adjacent to the one she grew up in.

 

It was a bit dark, a bit seedy. There were old stained glass light fixtures hanging low over the tables and a jukebox in the corner that played songs that hadn’t graced the radio in over twenty years. 

 

A pitcher of slightly flat ale was poured between the three of them, and Hermione watched in silent wonder at the interactions of her two temporary roommates. They had an easy sort of friendship, one not so different from the one she had boasted between her, Ron, and Harry. 

 

But something about theirs was sharper. They were far more apt to take the piss out of one another, but even more surprising was the easy way everything was taken with a laugh or a snort, rolling off their chiseled shoulders, and onto the next round of thinly-veiled insults. 

 

She drew an instant connection between their fighting styles and their personalities. Malfoy was more aggressive, always on the offense with wild haymakers and quick, unblockable wit. Theo on the other hand, stood back. In his attacks and with his banter, he waited, examining his opponent before striking quick like a cobra. 

 

For nearly five minutes, Theo listened to Malfoy tease him mercilessly about being a bit of a knob when it came to the fairer sex. But then, with a quick strike to his proverbial kidneys, Theo laid out that Malfoy shouldn’t be bragging about his own sexual prowess when he had to beg Pansy Parkinson to spread her legs on the night of the Yule Ball. 

 

Amber ale leaked from the side of Hermione’s lips as her hand landed on Theo’s arm, squeezing tightly as she coughed and laughed for a full minute. 

 

Malfoy’s glare tightened over the rim of his glass as he stared at the pair across from him, giggling with unbridled glee. Hermione couldn’t find it in herself to care; it was far too delicious to imagine her childhood bully begging for sex from pug-nosed Parkinson. 

 

The dinner plates were cleared, and as Hermione’s head sung with a third pint, she noticed that Theo declined, nodding his chin in Malfoy’s direction with a smirk. 

The music was dated, things she listened to growing up with her parents, but her shoulders still rocked in a lost memory, her eyes dipping closed as she swayed in the booth next to Theo. 

 

“C’mon, Granger.” Amusement heavy in Malfoy’s tone.

 

Her eyes blinked open and found him standing, his palm out in an invitation. 

 

“Oh,” Hermione chirped. “Ready to leave?” 

 

Something curious flashed across his features. “Ready to dance.” 

 

Hermione laughed, beers fueling her courage as her fingers fell into his. There was a flutter in her chest as his thumb slid over her knuckles and he led her to a barren dance floor.

 

The melody of the first song faded and Malfoy gave her a thoughtful little smile as he pulled her into his arms. She recognized the next song gracing the jukebox and a smile played on her lips as the music filled the air. 

 

_ Oooh my love, my darling _ —

 

“I didn’t know you danced,” Hermione said, biting back a smile as the music played on.

 

Malfoy snorted softly, his flat palm resting on the curve of her lower back. “I’ve been dancing since I could walk. Not that that’s what you were doing in your seat, but… I’m a gentleman.” His lopsided grin made her stomach flop delightfully as he pressed the hard planes of his body against hers, and their joined hands touched softly together. 

 

The buzz of the alcohol took over her tongue. “I’m about to say something that I never thought I would say, Malfoy.” 

 

His pale brow arched and an amused smile formed on his mouth. 

 

“I don’t find you as unpleasant as I used to.” Her lips curled up in a teasing grin as his head fell back in a harsh laugh. 

 

“I feel the exact same way, Granger,” he allowed, when his laughter subsided and he pressed his cheek into her curls as they swayed. 

 

_ Lonely rivers flow, _

_ to the sea, to the sea _

_ To the open arms of the sea _

_ Lonely rivers sigh,  _

_ Wait for me, wait for me _

_ I’ll be coming home, wait for me. _

 

The song played on as they lost themselves in a quiet moment, twirling in a dark pub in a nowhere town, and the soft gliding of his thumb over the dimples on her back tugged at her heart. Gods, she was  _ not _ falling for Draco Malfoy.

 

_ She wasn’t.   _

 

But Merlin, it felt good to be in his arms and have him look at her in that way that made her feel like she mattered again. Emotion struck like a lightning bolt as she remembered her parents swaying barefoot in the kitchen to the very same song. It felt like a lifetime ago that her dad’s low voice filled that tiny room as his mother laughed and teased him about his awful singing. Her brown eyes turned misty as she rested her cheek on the thrumming of his heart. 

 

“I remember this song. One of my parent’s favorites.”

 

“What is it?” Malfoy asked, his voice muffled by her hair. 

 

She hummed a moment, her face screwing up in thought. “It’s old, “ _ Unchained Melody _ ”, I think.”

 

XXXXX

 

**A/N: Hiiiii! Missed you all. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and I would just squeal and delight over your thoughts if you have time to leave me a note.**

 

**No new aesthetics this time around! But you can always find me and my shenanigans on Tumblr.**

 

**Endless Alpha and Beta hugs and love to MCal and InDreams. You guys rock my proverbial house.**

 

**Until next time! - LK**

  
  



	8. Eight

A week passed and Harry and Ron were not seen outside of Grimmauld. Not until Moody, Shacklebolt, and Kingsley demanded their presence at Bristol. 

 

Hermione, Theo, and Malfoy sat around the table in the drawing room, practicing the wand movements for a curse revealing spell she’d come across. It worked almost like a flashlight; the beam of light coming from the caster’s wand would flare when a curse had been placed and even then, one still had to counter the curse at hand. 

 

The back wall was nearly covered in large windows that poured light into the otherwise dark room, and Hermione stiffened when she saw Harry and Ron appear on the far lawn. They were quickly swarmed by varying members of the Order; Ginny refused to let them go for several minutes, not until Remus extricated them from her grip. 

 

“They’re here,” Malfoy said indifferently, his brows tugging together, and Theo peeked over his shoulder at the commotion out the back window. 

 

“It’s weird, isn’t it? I haven’t seen him since Hogwarts.” Theo turned back, jerking his chin in Malfoy’s direction. “You?”

 

Guarded silver eyes flickered quickly to hers and then back to Theo. “Not since the Astronomy Tower.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably in her seat, tracing the vine carvings on her wand with her forefinger. 

 

A few moments later the boys were ushered into the room with little fanfare, and they took the two seats next to her right, with Malfoy and Theo on her left. 

 

There was a dullness to their eyes, a wariness still that she wasn’t sure they could or would ever shake. But they seemed to have gotten some rest, Ron wasn’t limping, and there was even a little more filling to their cheeks. They were getting better. 

 

“All right,” Remus said, taking his place at the head of the table. “We're going to call the field teams in shortly but we want to be briefed on Lestrange Manor and what you three have come up with.” 

 

Behind him, Moody and Shacklebolt entered, flanking him with matching scrutinous glares. 

 

Theo spoke first, pulling the blueprints from the bag and rolling them out on the table. “Highlighted are the areas that we think most likely for the cup to be hidden—”

 

“Sorry,” Harry said, his eyes tightening as he sat forward. “Would someone care to fill me in?” His cutting tone wasn’t foreign to Hermione; she’d heard it used on many occasions, though mostly directed at Professor Snape or Dolores Umbridge. 

 

“Catch up, Potter,” Malfoy scoffed. “Intel puts the cup of Helga Hufflepuff in the possession of the Lestranges. We're tasked with finding it.” 

 

“You’ve been working with them, ‘Mione?” Ron asked with a hard glare, his focus flittering between Theo and Malfoy. 

 

Her lips pursed; it wasn’t so long ago that she was nearly as repulsed by Malfoy and by association, Theo Nott. “Yes.”

 

 Harry’s brow creased in confusion. “Funny—you didn’t mention it.”

 

Malfoy rolled his eyes and leaned smugly back in his chair, draping his forearm across the back of her seat. “Seems to me you didn’t think to fucking ask what your girl's been up to, Potter.”

 

“That’s enough!” Moody barked and Hermione shook her head, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand. Defly ignoring the leering stares of Harry and Ron on the arm casually slung across her chair. 

 

Theo continued, “My best bet is going to be in the armory. The issue is that it will also be the most heavily warded.”

 

“We’ve gone over it several times,” Malfoy added, leaning forward and removing his arm from her space. “Most of these curses and wards will be designed against Muggles and Muggle-borns. There shouldn’t be an issue with any Purebloods and hopefully, any Half-bloods, although it might be best to make sure they are up to snuff with the counter-curses on this list.” Malfoy reached into the bag and slid a roll of parchment towards the three older wizards at the end of the table. 

 

Moody snatched it off the table and unfurled it so the other two could look on as well. “Nice work.” 

 

Coming from Moody, the simple praise felt as if a parade was being held in their honor and the three of them shared a small grin. 

 

“Okay, strategy!” Remus clapped his hands together once, before removing his wand and flourishing it over the blueprints in the center of the table. The markings on the paper were projected into the air above them. “Best entry?”

 

“Servants’ quarters,” Malfoy offered, pointing to a corner off the kitchens. “Lestrange Manor is, for all intents and purposes, abandoned. After their escape from Azkaban, it wouldn’t make a lot of sense for them to be lurking around their old home. I would assume Bellatrix and company will not be there. Regardless of their attendance, their House Elves will be. They’ll Apparate to her side in an instant and she’ll be back with a squad of Death Eaters before we’ve cleared the kitchen.”

 

It was Ron’s turn to speak next, surprising everyone at the table with his earnest tone. “How many House Elves does a family normally emplo—er, keep?” A light blush stained his cheeks and Hermione smiled. He was suddenly the boy she’d always known. 

 

Theo’s head bobbed back and forth a few times. “Depends on the family. Nott Hall kept five or six. Malfoy Manor?” Theo sucked air through the side of his mouth and turned to Malfoy, gesturing that he offer that information. 

 

“We had several—many, in fact. Sometimes upwards of twenty. We had a few that always remained, but others—” His eyes traveled to Hermione again and he gulped before speaking again. “Others were more expendable.  If I had to guess how many were at Lestrange Manor since they’ve been in Azkaban? Maybe three?” He shrugged, sharing another look with Theo, who nodded. 

 

“They’ll be bound to the house—to the family,” Theo quickly amended. “The others would have been released upon their incarceration.” 

 

Despite her anger about the discussion of keeping and selling House Elves like a china set, the information lined up. Kreacher was bound to Grimmauld, sure—but more so to the Black Family. And any House Elves tied to the Lestranges were undoubtedly as pleasant as Kreacher..

 

“They’ll need to be knocked out before they can Apparate,” Hermione said and the entire room froze. Harry blinked several times, as if he couldn’t make out the meaning behind what she was saying. “I have an idea, but it’s risky…”

 

“We’re open to your suggestions, Hermione,” Remus said encouragingly.

 

“Is there anything in the magical world like a concussion grenade?” She was met by several slow-blinking wizards, and sucking in a long breath, she continued. “It’s a Muggle weapon that's intended to knock out its targets, leaving them disoriented and unconscious when used.”

 

“I’ll talk to Trueman,” Shacklebolt said, cradling his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he thought. “The Auror department may have something like that. If not, O’Malley will have a curse, I’m sure.” 

 

Moody stabbed his cane into the pale wood floor and took a step forward. “Right! I want us there within the fortnight. I’ll have O’Malley host another training in counter-curses. Potter, Granger, Weasley—brush up on your field techniques and be ready to go.”

 

“Wait—” Malfoy interrupted, his chair sliding back loudly as he leaned forward. “Granger can’t go, she’s Muggle-born.”

 

“Yeah? So?” Moody gruffed. 

 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed into tight slits as she turned in her seat towards Malfoy. “Excuse me?”

 

“Granger,” Malfoy scoffed, a laugh lilting at the end. “Have you not been listening? This house was set up to murder you. Did you read the list? Those are just  _ most likely _ curses… Do you think Bella and her fucking psychotic husband wouldn’t have thought up something more creative?”

 

“I’m not staying behind if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

 

“Don’t be stupid!” Malfoy spat before quickly noticing the many confused stares burning in the side of his face. “Granger, listen to me. The rest of us at this table can walk through that house and look for that cup without a sweat—hell, we should probably comprise a team of just Purebloods for these types of missions. It’s for your protection—”

 

Hermione’s palm lifted to stop him while her lips pulled back in a snarl. “I’m going to stop you right there, Malfoy. I’m not sure where you got the impression, but I’m actually not in any need of protection. Not from you or anyone. I’m aware of the risks. I’ve seen worse and I’ve survived—”

 

“ _ You might not survive this _ !” he shouted, his hand slapping against the table so that most of the room jumped. 

 

Grinding her molars together, Hermione managed a few final words. “I refuse to live however many days I have left on this earth ruled by what  _ Purebloods _ deem appropriate for me. Your aunt thinks I deserve to be strung up by neck for stepping on her grand staircase? You don’t think I deserve to go on this mission? It’s not up to you.  _ I decide _ .” Her lips pulled back in a snarl.

 

“Granger,” Moody barked. “Are you in any way incapable or incompetent enough to take this mission?” 

 

Hermione’s back straightened. “No.”

 

“Are you aware of the risks of entering a Pureblood estate as a Muggle-born?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Brilliant!” Moody snapped. “Then that’s decided. Someone call the teams in and we’ll give them a briefing before we dismiss for the day.” 

 

The icy chills rolling off Malfoy were enough to freeze a flame, but Hermione’s fire wasn’t easily extinguished. She was Fiendfyre incarnate and fuck anyone who tried to bench her from a fight.

 

XXXXX

 

The rest of the afternoon was a hands-on briefing, wherein they discussed the strategy of infiltrating Lestrange Manor. Malfoy didn’t speak to her again, but she tried her damnedest to ignore his little temper tantrum. There were more important things than his ego. 

 

For the first time since the boys had returned, they seemed to have a renewed vigor. Discussing the mission—having a tangible lead on a Horcrux—was probably the closest they’d been in months and it showed. 

 

Harry and Ron returned to Grimmauld and Theo was asked by Lupin to stay back, although he gave no inclination as to why.

 

This left Hermione and Malfoy at Surrey house. Hermione stayed on the porch, refreshing her warming charm again and again in a stubborn refusal to go inside where the blond git had claimed. 

 

After a painfully long time, he emerged, the door clanging closed behind him. Hermione didn’t offer a single glance in his direction, not even as he leaned on the railing next to her, staring back the way he’d come. 

 

“You’re being stubborn,” he said quietly, and Hermione thought suddenly that this particular Slytherin must have not a single ounce of self-preservation at all. For if he had, he would not poke the lion inside her in such a way. 

 

“No,  _ you’re _ being ridiculous! Who do you think you are to tell me what missions I can accept?” 

 

Malfoy scoffed incredulously, the space between his brows wrinkling. “Granger. I don’t know how else to spell this out for you… that house is designed to kill you.” 

 

“I am not going to be defined by my blood status anymore!”

 

“Oh, bullshite! You aren’t defined by that—”

 

“Yeah?” She scoffed incredulously, a small cloud of her breath forming between them as her warming charm waned. “ _ You _ are defining me by it. You’re doing it right now. I am not sitting out anything because I was born to Muggles.”

 

“This isn’t because you’re Muggle-born—”

 

“Bullshite!” she spat back at him and his lips pulled back in a menacing sneer for a moment. 

 

“Fine, Granger. You want to go there? Let’s go there. It  _ is _ because you’re a Muggle-born, because that’s what you  _ are _ . And I’m not sitting here saying it makes you less or more or anything of the sort. But it makes you a target. And being Harry Potter’s little golden girl? That makes you valuable. So what? I just have to shut my mouth and let you charge into battle—”

 

“Get it through your thick skull, Malfoy! You don’t  _ let _ me do anything!” Hermione attempted to interrupt in a shrill voice, but he carried on as if she had said nothing. 

 

“—on the shoulders of Harry fucking Potter so you can prove that your blood status doesn’t define you. There will be other missions, Granger. Don’t be stupid, you don’t have to fight every fucking fight!”

 

“I do! Can’t you see that? This fight is just as much mine as anyone else’s—” Hermione paused, her eyes misting as she realized just how much she meant that. She’d had a choice, she could have laid down her wand and joined her parents. She could be out there right now, normal and none the wiser. Instead she was here, any future was utterly dependent on winning this war. She gulped, steadying herself. 

 

“Hell, it might be more mine than most,” she continued, “and I’m not going to sit back while you lot charge into danger headfirst on my account.

 

Malfoy groaned, sliding his hands down his face as he turned his body to face hers. “Oh, you bleeding Gryffindors and your reckless need for adventure and glory. Stop being fucking blind, Granger. You’re going to get yourself killed and you’ll be of no help to anyone then.”

 

Hermione’s steam was quickly running out and she leveled him with her harshest glare. “I’m going, Malfoy. Get on board with it, or don’t—I really don’t give a fuck.” 

 

With that she turned on her heel and entered the safe house, letting the frail door slam behind her on the way. 

 

She didn’t make it but four steps into the room before the door was wrenched open again. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she paused, preparing herself for another bout. 

 

But when she turned, he was crashing into her. His hands gripped the sides of her face roughly and around his fervid kiss she sucked in a needy gasp. 

 

A dangerous cocktail of fury and passion mixed between them as his hands moved quickly for the hem of her shirt and yanked it over her head; his head dipped to lave at her exposed breasts and she arched into him as one hand filled with the curve of her bum. 

 

He was angry and it was painfully obvious by the way he was touching her. It didn’t hurt but it was powerful, broiling under her skin that bubbled past her lips in feminine little breaths.  His fingertips dug dangerously into her hips and with a tug of her curls he exposed her neck. Something feral came over her as she sank her teeth into his shoulder and he let out a low pleasured moan. 

 

With a palmful of her arse, Malfoy lifted her effortlessly, her arms coiling around his neck as she claimed his mouth again. The kiss was hungry— _ needy _ —as she nipped at his bottom lip until her tongue was sliding into his mouth. 

 

Once in her room, he kicked the door shut with his heel and dropped her from his hold. They ripped at the buttons of each other’s denims and with a single fluid movement, Malfoy tugged his t-shirt from his body. 

 

“Mal—” she started, but her words with silenced with a punishing kiss as he slipped her knickers from her legs and pulled his prick free. 

 

He spun her quickly, so she was facing the wall and one of his hands trapped her wrists over his head as he positioned his tip at her entrance. Hermione went wild under the barely there attention and her hips pushed back into him. Malfoy had none of that, his free hand finding the curve of her lower back and staying her subtle bucking as he fought for control of the embrace. 

 

“Tell me you want it.” His voice was husky and dark and Hermione would have done anything in that moment as he pressed just a touch further inside her wet centre. 

 

“Please, Dra—,” she whined and his name died on her tongue as he shoved roughly inside her, pausing when he was fully hilted as her lips formed around a silent wail. 

 

His hands trapping her wrists released and his grip fell to the junction of her hip as he thrust punishingly into her. The only sounds in the room were his hips slapping against her arse and the little noises that kept slipping over her tongue with each forceful drive. 

 

She kept her hands just barely over her head, her forearms bracing herself as he pressed into her again and again. Her clit throbbed from lack of attention and after a few minutes she realized she’d had more than enough of that. With a quick straightening of her spine, he slipped from inside her; when she turned, her hands flat against his chest as she pushed him firmly towards the bed, his face was almost enough to make her giggle. 

 

He fell backwards on the mattress and she crawled over him, straddling his lap and guiding the tip of his cock towards her entrance. There was no teasing, no slow entry as she impaled herself on him and he arched off the bed to greet her. 

 

Rough hands found her breasts, tugging and massaging and fucking worshiping every curve of her body. Tossing her head to the side to rid herself of the riotous curls tickling her cheeks, she fell over him, her hands caging his face as she rocked against him until her clit was—finally—being tended to properly. 

 

With a few purposeful rolls of her hips, she was shattering on top of him, a canopy of curls and breath falling over him. He groaned loudly as her walls tightened on his cock and when her spasming ended, she was flipped deftly onto her back as he picked up the same punishing pace from before. 

 

One hand reached back to grasp her knee and hitch it higher as he pressed impossibly deeper, rotating his hips as he buried his face into the crook of her shoulder; she nearly wailed as he poured into her. The muscles of his back twitched under her palms as he came undone and as their breathing synced, low and lovely, he kissed her. Kissed her in a way that felt more like worshipping as their tongues brushed together in a slow dance. When their lips parted, he rested his forehead on hers, eyes fluttering closed. 

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly thought better of it. Instead, slipping from inside her and rolling onto his back. There would be more time for fighting later. 

 

XXXXX

 

**A/N: Thanks for joining in for another chapter!**

 

**Thanks as always to MCal and InDreams for all their loving touches to this story. All remaining errors are the only thing I own.**

 

**Would love to know your thoughts!**

  
  



	9. Nine

It was a strange sensation for Hermione, to sit back while others had their necks out, ready for the proverbial axe. 

 

She stood with a wavering warming charm on the back porch of Canterbury house, waiting for the pops of Apparition that would signal the return of the teams. They’d have headed straight for Bristol once the mission was over but Hermione couldn’t stand to be there. So, she waited here. There was an overwhelming need to see Luna’s face unscathed and Seamus boasting about his day. Then she could breathe again. 

 

This was the first real mission of the war, at least the first one that she was aware of. The creaking of the wood at her back alerted her and she turned to find Theo crossing the worn porch with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, only a thin jumper to stave off the chill. 

 

Hermione greeted him with a tight smile, returning her gaze to the lawn. 

 

Theo’s brows pinched together, and he took a spot next to her. “Waiting for news?” 

 

She poured a little more magic into her charm and it spread to cover Theo’s shoulders as well, and he muttered his thanks quietly as he rested his forearms on the banister. 

 

“Am I that obvious?” she asked. “I just wanted to make sure they made it back alright. What're you doing here?” 

 

“Malfoy’s been in a shitty mood since your row,” Theo said breezily, turning in his spot to rest his bum against the railing instead, staring back into the house. “It’s best to just give him space when he’s acting like a tosser. Wouldn’t want to deck the poor fool just for being in love.” A sideways smirk worked its way onto Theo’s full lips as he peered down at her from the corner of his eye. 

 

Hermione snorted, straightening her spine and turning so she was leaning in the same direction. “I’m pretty sure he’s just hate-shagging me.”

 

“Nah,” Theo dismissed easily, running a hand through his hair, his mouth still fighting off the grin that was threatening to take him over. “I’ve seen how he treats bed warmers—trust me, you’re not one of them.” 

 

A disbelieving little huff passed her lips, but her mind chewed on the thought a bit longer. She’d be a fool to believe that there was any chance of anything with Malfoy. He was Malfoy, after all. But in the last few weeks, something had shifted between them, and despite not wanting to believe it, a little fire was stoked in her belly at Theo’s reassurance. 

 

“He sure has a funny way of showing it,” Hermione mumbled, her finger tracing a pattern on the thigh of her denims as she spoke. 

 

Theo barked out a laugh. “You’ll figure him out eventually—maybe. I’m still not sure that I have, honestly. He’s a good guy, my best mate, and I've found he’s protective about the things he cares about. He just doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”

 

Hermione's gaze lingered on Theo’s face as he stared through the windows into the kitchen; his jaw was square and sharp and although she’d perhaps noted in passing, she hadn't fully appreciated the bright blue shade of his eyes, mostly obscured by a thick fringe of lashes. 

 

To be honest, she hadn’t noticed him all that much in school, but now, she couldn’t figure out why. 

 

Theo was far different than the other Slytherins, more subdued in his cunning nature. Seemed like someone she maybe should have paid more attention to, back when things were simpler and Malfoy still called her Mudblood. Funny how things work out like that. 

 

His warm stare met hers, curiously studying her right back, and there was a strangeness to the moment that Hermione couldn’t make sense of. When his gaze fell to her mouth and then shot quickly back to the windows, she felt a blush stain her cheeks and she fixed her stare elsewhere. 

 

A dozen cracks of Apparition sounded on the lawn behind them and the pair of them jumped from their skins. “They’re back,” she breathed and jogged the few short steps back down onto the lawn. 

 

She counted them once, then again—then maybe once more. Not only did they all look healthy and unscathed, but they also looked… happy. _Happy_? 

 

Seamus and Cormac were sharing a jovial high five, and Fred had Ginny trapped in a headlock as he pressed his knuckles into her fine red hair. The teams formed a semi-circle around her, Luna tucked neatly into Neville's side and smiled back at her friend. 

 

“Well, how did it go?” There was a flash of something inside her—was it jealousy? No. Couldn’t be. She didn’t want to be raiding Muggles or fighting skirmishes… but at the same time, she was beginning to feel awfully useless. What was her job other than floating around the safe houses looking for something to do?

 

“Fucking amazing!” Seamus boasted, and all was right with the world for a moment. “Nearly emptied the warehouse in a matter of twenty minutes.” 

 

“You should have seen Neville,” Ginny popped in, her lips screwing up in a crooked smile. “Took out two guards with the fastest stunners you’ve ever seen. Got to make sure we tell Harry you’re finally getting better.” 

 

It was Neville’s turn to beam under the spotlight and his cheeks flamed. “Not like I could get any worse,” he responded with a grin. 

 

“I hate to say it,” Luna chimed in, staring doe-eyed up at her boyfriend (who had shot up a good four inches in the last year or so). “But you’re quite right. You were horrendous.” 

 

Neville snorted and kissed her blonde hair. “Thanks, love. Always the encourager.” 

 

Hermione’s mouth fell open slightly at their pride. They had just… they had just robbed a warehouse of supplies and Neville had taken out two Muggles. And they were all happy about it. “Glad to see you’re all okay,” Hermione managed, her eyes fixed on the pale grass. “I’ll let you lot get some rest.” 

 

Turning quickly on her heel, Hermione made for the small lake on the property. It was really more of a pond, small and warm all summer, and untouchable now that winter was nearly here. There were a few giant trees that lined the water's edge and a cluster of swans milled about when they weren’t harassing the patrons of the house. 

 

Now that it was well into October, a chill rose off the water like a spectre. The trees, once vibrant green and full of life, clung to their remaining crippled leaves as if they were the final remainders of the sun, desperate to cling to anything that wasn’t headed for winter. 

 

Hermione felt like one of those leaves, shriveled and left barely hanging. She was surrounded by her friends and still, she felt desperately alone. Was there a reality in which she would succumb to the same blind acceptance of where this war was taking them? 

 

“Hermione?” 

 

With a quick peek over her shoulder, she saw Ginny dipping under a branch and heading straight for her. 

 

“Hi, Gin.” Hermione’s gaze lingered briefly before returning to the lake and two swans battling for dominance over a stick. 

 

Once Ginny was standing shoulder to shoulder with Hermione, she let out a long sigh, sweeping her long straight hair and draping it over one shoulder. “You doing okay? You seem a bit different lately—”

 

“Yeah, I’m doing alright—mostly. Just hard to get on board with some of these changes.” Her gaze darkened on the treeline and a wave of vulnerability settled over her. “I’m not sure where I fit in around here anymore. I’m not out there with you guys, I haven’t been with Harry and Ron, and they’re insistent that I can’t understand what it is they’ve been going through. I’m frustrated all the time and I feel like I’m the only one standing still while everyone else forges ahead with no regard for much else.” 

 

Her confession left her breathless and Ginny responded silently, draping an arm over Hermione’s shoulders and squeezing gently. Sucking in a harsh breath through her teeth, Hermione loosened her tongue and allowed the final secret out. “I’ve been sleeping with Malfoy.” 

 

The air around the pond remained quiet; Ginny didn’t gasp nor startle. She remained passive even though Hermione had just let the most dangerous skeleton out of her closet. 

 

After a minute or so, Hermione spoke again. “Are you going to say something?”

 

Ginny chuckled and bumped Hermione’s hip with hers. “Am I supposed to be surprised?” 

 

“You’re not?” Hermione gaped, her jaw falling open with a huff. 

 

“Well he’s been staring at your arse all summer, and the way he always found a way to insert himself in your path—and that’s not recent but Merlin, since my first year. It's quite obvious he had a thing for you.” 

 

“ _No, it wasn’t_!” Hermione scoffed, her brows inching towards her hairline as she stared at the amused smile of Ginny Weasley.  

 

 _“Yes, it was_. We were all honestly so curious how you never picked up on it—hell, even Harry knew.” 

 

“ _Harry_ ?” Hermione’s lips parted with a soft _pop._

 

“Yes.” Ginny gave a little withering snort. “I told you—quite obvious.”

 

Hermione buried her face in her palms with a groan. “I don’t even know what this means, I’ve never—” 

 

“Fallen for someone?” Ginny offered with a teasing turn of her mouth. 

 

Hermione deadpanned, “Slept with someone for this long.” 

 

“Do you like him? Outside of shagging him that is.” 

 

Hermione considered it for a moment. Did she like him? He had his moments, she supposed. He was actually quite tender when they were alone, and his protectiveness over her, while infuriating, was also sweet, if you allowed yourself to get swept up in such nonsense. 

 

“I think so?” Hermione allowed half of her face to screw up in thought. “Ugh, I don’t know. Who even has time to like anyone right now.”

 

“Some could argue now is all we’ve got.” Ginny’s other arm wrapped around Hermione as well and she rested her temple on Hermione’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re at least getting laid. Harry is still icing me out.” 

 

“ _Ginny_!” Hermione admonished, her lips curling into a smile. “You’re awful.”

 

“I have needs, Hermione. _Needs_. Maybe I need to request a bunk at Surrey house. The little love shack. Theo's fit—” 

 

At that Hermione shook her friend’s embrace off and laughed brightly, remembering just how much experience Theo had to boast of. “If Harry wasn’t my best friend, I’d tell you to go for it. Maybe hold off a bit for his sake, yeah?”

 

An exaggerated sigh left Ginny and she turned back for the house. “ _Fine_. Only because you asked so nicely. But keep Lavender and Pavarti away from him, just in case. Those two have been circling him every chance they get. Little tarts.” 

 

Hermione followed her friend, a flash of protectiveness flaring in her chest. Theo was far too good for the likes of them, surely he wouldn’t succumb to their little games. 

 

Surely. 

 

XXXXX

 

Walking into Surrey house, Hermione paused mid-step. 

 

Draco was sitting casually on the corner of the sofa, one ankle slung over the opposite knee, a book cradled in his lap. But what made her pause was the glasses perched across his nose. 

 

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked seriously, her hand still frozen on the door knob. 

 

His gaze didn’t lift from the page he was reading. “You ought to recognize the activity. You do it yourself from time to time.” 

 

After another long moment of trying to make sense of him, she let the door close and joined him on the couch, sitting nearly on his lap as she curled up next to him. 

 

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.” It was almost an accusation as her eyes narrowed to slits. "You've read before and not worn them." 

 

Draco levied a bored sigh and wet the pad of his thumb with his tongue to flip the page. “There are many things you don’t know about me. Do you expect me to tell you every last errant detail?” 

 

A grin threatened to overtake her and she chuckled at his dry tone. “Eventually.”

 

The corner of his lip quirked, though he didn't look in her direction. “Well, in that case, I hate the Holyhead Harpies and my favorite color is grey.” 

 

“ _Grey_?” She balked, her eyes blowing wide. “No one’s favorite color is grey.” 

 

“I assure you, mine is.”

 

She giggled as he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. 

 

“I think you look quite dashing in glasses,” Hermione said, and leaned in to press a kiss on his cheek. He surprised her by quickly turning his face and catching her lips with his own, his hand sliding into her curls to cradle the back of her head. 

 

His lips moved gently against hers, quiet and comforting, and she found herself melting into his touch with a soft noise that rumbled from the back of her throat. 

 

When their lips parted, she settled under the crook of his arm and began reading the page he’d left open as he settled his cheek on the top of her head, his bad mood apparently forgotten.

 

XXXXX

 

“Gather around!” O’Connor shouted as he walked onto the back lawn. He had his hair tied back loosely, and despite the chill in the air he was wearing only a thin long-sleeve shirt shoved up around his elbows. 

 

Today was Harry and Ron’s first training and they remained on the fringe of the circle; once again, Hermione wasn’t sure of her place. Whatever had happened this summer had brought her friends closer together and had left her on the outside. Again. 

 

“Counter-curses.” Pacing back and forth, O’Connor pointed to a large square area over his shoulder that was marked off by red string. Various objects sat inside, placed at random. “All of these have been cursed by yours truly. You’re to identify the curse and then counter it before moving onto the next. I’ll demonstrate.” 

 

Their instructor poised himself at the edge of the rectangle and pointed his wand at a tufted chair. “Revelio.” The tip of his wand poured out a stream of white light and the chair glowed red with an intricate pattern emblazoned on its fabric. “This is the wand motion used to curse the object. You’ll need to read it before you can properly counter it. So study! For the sake of today, this one is a burning curse. It can be lifted by repeating the wand mark in reverse and casting _‘Tenebrus’._ Depending on the strength of the original caster, it can take a lot of your magic in order to lift it. Be prepared with your field partner to take turns.”

 

Hermione watched as he quickly lifted the curse and then touched the back of the chair with a firm palm. Turned back to his students, his brow lifted smugly. “Who’s up first?” 

 

A dozen hands shot into the air. 

 

XXXXX

 

Sweat dripped along Hermione’s temple as she sparred with the dummy out in the clearing outside of Surrey house, striking it with a swift thrust of the heel of her palm. 

 

With a heaving sigh, Hermione turned back towards the sound of the door opening and closing behind her. “Good job, Granger. You really kicked its arse,” Draco mocked from the porch. “Did you want me to knock you around a bit again?”

 

“You’re such a prat,” she breathed, bending over to rest her palms on her knees while she caught her breath. 

 

He barked a laugh as he jogged down the steps and circled her like prey. With a deep breath, Hermione straightened and adjusted her stance, taking a quick jab at him. He responded with a chuckle and a quick side step. 

 

“Let’s make this interesting, Granger.” Draco smirked. “When I knock you on your back we go back inside and you’ll ride me til one of us screams.” 

 

“Hah! And what do I get when I knock you on yours.” She gave another quick lead cross, this time with a little more force as she aimed for the center of his chest. 

 

He snatched her wrist from the air and tugged her into his embrace with a wicked grin. His eyes flashed as her breasts bumped into him.“Then I’ll bury my face between your thighs until you come on my tongue.”

 

Hermione’s brow quirked. “Deal.” She led with her knee, slamming it into the side of his thigh, his knee gave out slightly and he laughed, releasing her and bringing his fists up in front of him. 

 

She aimed her fist for his ribs but he dodged it, quickly circling her and nailing her between the shoulders with the heel of his palm. “Oh, come on now Granger. If you’re not stronger, you’ll need to be quicker.” 

 

The hard point of her elbow whipped towards him and he snatched her wrist again, twisting it painfully behind her until her back arched and he stepped against her, placing a soft kiss against her neck. “You’re gonna look pretty on my lap, Granger,” he whispered against her skin; she could feel his teeth brush against her as he grinned.

 

A dry laugh escaped her and she stomped on his foot with her heel. With a loud expletive he released her. She made quick work of turning, landing a blow to his sternum and then bringing her knee to his kidneys. 

 

“I’m not on my back yet, Malfoy.” She proceeded with a quick succession of jabs that he blocked with his forearm as backed away from her. Relentlessly, she continued until one found purchase on his nose and she gasped when he cradled his face. “Oh shite! Sorry sorry sorry.” 

 

She rested her hand on his shoulder and he let out a disappointed huff before sweeping his foot under her legs. 

 

Her lungs failed her as Hermione hit the dirt, laying flat on her back and staring up at Draco. 

 

“That wasn’t fighting fair,” she chastised, not moving from her spot on the ground. 

 

Draco’s head tilted back and forth as he considered her accusation, squatting next to her as he spoke. “That very well may be true, Granger. But then, most people don’t fight fair, do they? Especially not with the incentive of watching you ride me.” He held his hand out to her and she slapped it out of her face as she rolled onto her stomach and pushed to standing. 

 

He laughed cheerfully, trapping her in a hug and crushing her back into his chest. “Don’t be a sour loser, Granger. I’m a good sport. I’ll happily get lost between your thighs first.” His face buried in the crook of her neck, the stubble on his jaw tickling her mercilessly and she couldn’t help but laugh as she fought against his hold. 

 

XXXXX

 

Another week passed. More training in Bristol. More Malfoy in her bed. 

 

It was the morning of the Lestrange Mission and everyone was gathered around the long table in the dining room at Bristol house. Moody had taken the lead in discussing entry into the house. 

 

“Right, then!” Moody barked, pointing to the kitchen with his walking stick. “Malfoy is going to neutralize the House Elves before entry.”

 

“Why Malfoy?” Cormac called from a spot near the back of the room, earning a hard stare from Moody. 

 

“Malfoy is related to Bellatrix and the Elves may not Disapparate upon seeing him. It could buy a few moments as he releases the small explosive.”

 

Hermione’s hard gaze landed on Draco across from her. That was new information. He refused to meet her stare, instead leaning forward across the table intently, listening in rapture to Moody’s speech. _Prat._

 

“Explosive?” Dean chimed in and Moody’s glare became impossibly harsher. 

 

“It will release a fog that will incapacitate the House Elves. Now—”

 

“How will Malfoy not be affected by the spell?” Ginny asked, her lips twitching in amusement as Moody growled his displeasure.

 

“Bubble-Head Charm! Enough questions!” His wooden leg stomped hard into the ground and Hermione chuckled; it was quite amusing to watch him become so flustered. “Team one, you’ll be in charge of these areas.” His cane hovered over the left side of the house, then moved to the right. “Team two here. Be vigilant when sweeping for curses, avoid them if you can, and don’t forget to mark them for others; lift them when you can’t. You all know our objective, but anything suspicious, call for your team leads or Malfoy and Nott. Questions?” He barked, not that he really waited for an answer. “Good. Be ready to leave at twenty-three hundred. Portkeys will be in the back.” 

 

As he left, the room began to quietly mumble to each other. 

 

“Ready, ‘Mione?” Ron asked from her left. “First time being out in awhile, yeah?”

 

Her lips flattened into a tight line and she nodded stiffly. 

 

“You’ll be with us,” Harry encouraged from the far side of Ron. “We’ve got this.” 

 

“Right,” Draco snorted, shoving his chair away from the table. “Unless her entrails are removed by an errant curse. Because _then_ she’ll be dead. _Fucking Gryffindors_ ,” he growled as he left the table. 

  


XXXXX

 

They gathered in the backyard, splitting into their various teams, and Hermione clustered next to Harry and Ron. The anxiety of the evening was tangible and it manifested within the group in different ways. Seamus and Dean were talking animatedly, whipping their wands in the air. Neville was speaking with the twins, their faces for once serious. 

 

“Granger!” Malfoy barked from behind her and she jumped at his sudden proximity. 

 

“Shite, Malfoy. You scared me.” 

 

His silver eyes rolled and he snorted. “ _That_ scared you. You’re walking into your death and me calling your name scared you—sounds about right little lion.”

 

Hermione could feel several sets of eyes on them as Malfoy looked down on her. They'd made no public confirmations of their relationship but they hadn’t denied it either. Malfoy paused, his lips folding in as he stared intently at her, waiting for her to make the move. She scoffed and placed her hands on his chest, reaching up to kiss him. 

 

He relaxed under her touch, winding his hands behind her and deepening the kiss as a few chuckles sounded through the group. Hermione thought she heard Seamus holler that someone owed him five galleons and she smiled against Draco’s lips. 

 

“Be safe,” he commanded when their lips parted and his hands found purchase on her cheeks. “I’m not fucking kidding, either.” 

 

“ _You_ be safe.” 

  


XXXXX

**A/N: I’ll admit, I am a little tentative about this chapter. I almost chucked the whole thing about five minutes ago lol**

 

**But alas, there is important character development here, so it shall stay. Excited to take you guys to Lestrange Manor in the next update!**

 

**As always, Alpha and Beta love to my dears, MCal and Indreams ( who just started a bombass fic I had the pleasure to Alpha and trust me when I say you do not want to miss it! Boardwalk is epic and Draco is so spicy hot!!)**

 

**This week gets a little wild for me with work and putting our house up for sale, but I will do my best to squeeze in some writing and update ASAP!**

 

**Xo- LK**

  



	10. Ten

The Portkeys dropped them outside the grounds of Lestrange Manor. They were surrounded by forest as the waning crescent moon peeked through the clouds above them. A strangled chill crept through the air, and despite the excitement that teetered throughout them moments before, the only sounds were the soft crunching of branches and their own hollow breaths. 

 

Malfoy stepped forward, nodding towards Theo once and then turning towards Hermione, offering her a final tentative smile before slipping through the trees. 

 

What felt like an eternity passed as they stood waiting for word. The quiet was oppressive and even though it was difficult to make out the shape of the Manor itself,  she still squinted into the darkness, hoping for a clue as to what was happening. 

 

Harry’s hand slipped around Hermione’s waist and he pulled her into his side with a gentle squeeze. He always seemed to know what she needed, and when Ron stepped forward on her other flank, Hermione felt for a moment that her friends were back with her for real.

 

There was a loud clattering from the back of the house as a soft explosion vibrated through the air, followed moments later by green sparks jetting up into the darkness.

 

With her wand gripped hard in her palm, Hermione tore through the trees, stray branches caught in her curls, but she didn’t slow. Dozens of feet followed her as they made for the entrance where Malfoy stood.  

 

“Move quickly and quietly,” he instructed as they filed through the single door. Hermione paused next to him, her fingers finding his and giving him a quick squeeze as her heart hammered painfully in her chest. “We haven’t got long before they wake. Moody said maybe an hour,” Malfoy said, speaking directly to her. “Leave in forty-five. Okay?”

 

“Only if you do too,” she said with a gentle, teasing nudge. 

 

“Hermione,” Ron hissed, his gaze flickering over to Malfoy’s for a moment. “Let’s go.” 

 

She made to walk through the door but was tugged back into a possessive kiss by Malfoy before he released her with a resigned frown. “Be fucking careful.” 

 

Hermione scoffed, a smile playing on her lips. “Always careful,” she reassured him with a playful twitch of her jaw. 

 

He snorted and called quietly after her, “ _ Always reckless _ !”

 

Casting the revealing charm, light poured from her wand onto the floor in front of her; with steadying breaths, she tried to quell the shaking of her hand. The Manor was dark, not just in it’s lack of light, but even the air felt heavy with lingering dark magic. She could feel it billowing off the walls and entangling with her magic.

 

The portraits were covered, and although no dust resided on any surface, it was easy to tell that there had not been anyone living in this home for some time.

 

At the entrance to the kitchen, the teams parted ways, sharing a serious look over their shoulders as Hermione swept the area with her wand light, flanked by Harry and Ron who mimicked her spell. They had no instruction as to their route through the house, instead, they were led by Harry’s intuition and the pull of his gut that told him where a Horcrux might be lurking. 

 

“Do you feel anything?” Ron asked, nudging Harry with his elbow, his red fringe drifting into his eyes. 

 

Harry shook his head, cocking his ear towards a dark hall, as if that might assist him in finding something.  

 

Under Hermione’s light, an ivory bust flamed crimson and it’s wand pattern glowed. She suppressed a shiver, as she recognized an Entrailing Curse and gave it a wide berth as she worked her way down the hall, Harry and Ron close in tow. 

 

They’d spent the last week memorising the layout of the Manor, even going so far as to blindfold each other and recreate the blueprints on the back lawn of Bristol house. Once in the grand foyer, she barely made it a few steps without finding a new curse. 

 

“Let’s go upstairs,” Harry said, staring at the giant grand staircase. He froze as his wand light fell upon it and the stairs flared to life, an unknown curse painted in the air. 

 

“We can’t lift this,” Ron said, “not with the amount of time we have.” He took a cautious step towards the stairwell and Hermione held her breath as his fingers brushed the banister. “I’m safe,” he sighed. “You two shouldn’t risk it. I’ll search the boudoir.” 

 

“I’ll go with him,” Malfoy’s voice chimed in from the far side of the foyer. “Just wait here.” His voice was low, a command. Hermione snorted as he joined Ron on the steps, equally unaffected by the curse, and turned back towards Hermione. “ _ Please _ ?”

 

He gave a serious look to Theo and then he and Ron disappeared up the stairs wordlessly, neither sparing the other a glance.

 

With an indignant scoff, Hermione turned towards the hall, Harry following her closely and sweeping the area for curses. 

 

“ _ Granger _ !” Theo hissed quietly, the sound of his feet padding lightly behind her. 

 

She didn’t turn back, instead sweeping her wand light back and forth idly. “I’m not sitting here and waiting on him, Theo. He should know better than that, and frankly, you should too.” 

 

“Hermione,” Harry called with a jerk of his chin. Down the hall, she could hear team two pulling apart one of the rooms. “The small study is this way.” 

 

Hermione swept the entrance and items inside meticulously, noticing no curses as they worked their way casually into the room. 

 

“Something’s here or close. Very close,” Harry said in a rough voice, squinting into the darkness. 

 

After finding nothing alarming in the room, she broke her revealing charm, casting a  _ Lumos _ instead that filled the area with a bright light. Harry mumbled his thanks and began pulling open drawers while she moved towards the cabinets, her eyes catching a few metal trinkets in burnished bronze. 

 

Theo entered, bringing with him a cloud of nervous energy. 

 

“You don’t need to tend to me,” Hermione clipped. “I don’t care if he’s sent you to watch over my every movement. I’m quite capable—” 

 

“He didn’t send me, Hermione,” Theo said in a low voice. “I know you think he’s being a prat, and he very well maybe, but he has good reason to worry. This place isn’t safe.” 

 

She looked imploringly up at him, her chest deflating slightly. “I’m being careful, Theo. And you’re only distracting me from doing so. If you want to help, then look around; if you want to babysit, please do so from several paces back so I can work.” 

 

Hermione began rifling through the various objects in the cabinet, paying no attention to the irritation billowing from the Slytherin to her right. 

 

“ _ HARRY _ !” An excited scream came from down the hall and the three of them shared a look before sprinting from the room, their feet sinking into the plush carpet.

 

Harry passed through the door frame first but before Hermione could figure out what was happening inside, her body slammed into an invisible wall, her back arching unnaturally and limbs splayed out. 

 

Her vision went black as her eyes rolled around in her head, her breath coming in tight wheezes as her airway tightened. The terrified cries of the people around her filtered through her consciousness but they sounded too far away as if she were hearing them from underwater. 

 

The pain took a moment to really settle into her limbs. But when it did, nothing else made sense. Burning ripped through her muscles as her arms stretched and contorted wildly, and she felt the pop of her shoulder as it was pulled behind her.

 

It was endless and consuming and if she had the power to sob, she would have. Thankfully, her body had enough. Tremors wracked her and finally, she fell unconscious, succumbing to the blackness in a soft  _ thud _ on the expensive rug.

 

XXXXX

 

Slowly, she blinked awake, groaning at the lingering pain in her body. Her throat felt tight and raw from screaming as tears slipped over her cheeks. She tried to lift her limbs, but they fell heavy and useless at her side as scorching pain tore through her left shoulder. 

 

Malfoy’s husky cough broke the silence, and his fingers threaded through hers. “Granger?” 

 

“What happened?” Hermione’s voice shook as tears continued to stream down her cheeks. 

 

Malfoy shuffled next to her, finally coming into view, pinching a small vial between his thumb and forefinger. “Here, take this,” he mumbled, tipping the minty potion to her lips. 

 

Thankfully, the effects were instantaneous. It didn’t take away the pain, but it dulled the ache and she felt as though she could breathe fully again. 

 

“What happened?” she repeated, shuffling so she was leaning against the headboard, even though it took every ounce of strength inside her to do so without sobbing.

 

Malfoy snorted next to her, running a hand through his hair, and when she looked at him, her heart wrenched. Circling his bloodshot eyes were purple shadows—he hadn’t slept. Merlin, how long had she been unconscious? 

 

“Unsurprisingly, you walked headfirst into a fucking cursed room.” 

 

“H-how long have I been asleep?” Her vocal cords scraped together as she spoke. Two blinks. Then her focus fell to the way he was massaging her shaking fingers and her heart clenched. “Cursed room?”

 

“Yeah. You and the idiot extraordinaire decided  _ not _ to use your curse detecting charm and instead danced through the entry without another thought—”

 

Hermione scoffed and the movement caused her to wince at a pain in her side. “That’s not  _ exactly _ how it happened. We dropped them because we were in another room.” 

 

“You’re fucking lucky it wasn’t worse. You could be dead.” His voice was tight and angry and he couldn’t lift his eyes to look at her. 

 

“Careful, Malfoy,” she teased, her lips quirking in amusement. “Your feelings are starting to show.” 

 

He gave a harsh laugh and lifted their entwined hands to his mouth, disentangling their fingers so he could kiss each tip. “Are you surprised that I would care if you were dead? Who on earth would I shag then?”

 

A surprised laugh bubbled past her lips and the pain inside returned as she swatted at him. “You’re infuriating.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You’re benched for the time being, Moody’s orders. So, don’t even try to blame it on me.”

 

It wasn’t her finest moment, but she did certainly pout for a moment before realization dawned on her and she nearly shot from her seat. Nearly, because the pain put her back into her spot immediately. “Did they find the cup?” 

 

His square jaw clenched as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “They did.”

 

“They did,” she repeated, her chest deflating in relief. Now they had to find a way to fucking destroy it. 

 

XXXXX

 

She stayed in bed for a few days, thankful for the books that were delivered and the friends who ventured the trip to Surrey to keep her company. 

 

Currently, Luna was leaning on the headboard next to her and Ginny was laid out on her belly, all three of them reading various texts in an attempt to find out how to destroy the blasted cup that was currently residing in Grimmauld. 

 

“Hermione,” Luna asked, her voice spacey as she stared up at the ceiling. “Tell me more about the sword of Gryffindor.” 

 

Hermione hummed. “What about it?”

 

“Everything.” 

 

“Erm, it was the heirloom of Godric Gryffindor. It has a jeweled hilt and presents itself to a true Gryffindor in need—” Hermione’s face screwed up in thought as she tried to remember any other obscure details that Luna might be searching for. “It’s goblin made, so it’s pretty resilient. It only takes in that which makes it stronger.” 

 

As she spoke an idea flickered in the corners of her mind, shimmering but not fully formed. 

 

“Harry used it second year, in the Chamber of Secrets. He used it to kill the—” There it was. The connection. “ _ Luna _ !” Hermione sat up, the pain in her spine throbbing only briefly but not enough to stifle her excitement. “Luna! You’re a genius!” 

 

Her blonde friend smiled back at her. “I am,” she agreed. “Although, I’m not sure why in this context.”

 

Ginny straightened on the bed. “I don’t get it. What am I missing?” 

 

“The sword. It only takes in that which makes it stronger—like basilisk venom. It’s impregnated with it. The very same that was used to destroy the journal second year.” Hermione shook her head in disbelief, her teeth cutting dangerously into her lip. “We need that sword.” 

 

XXXXX

 

The bed dipped as Malfoy crawled in and Hermione blinked into the darkness. She turned into his embrace, threading her fingers through the hair at the back of his head and claiming a soft kiss. 

 

He curled around her, kissing her slowly. Tasting her. 

 

Desire bloomed deep in her belly but it wasn’t the same kind of heat they usually shared. It wasn’t a roaring fire burning everything down, it was a hot ember between her thighs, begging to be stoked to life. 

 

She made it known by the soft push of her hips into him and he froze, pulling back to stare at her in the darkness. 

 

“It’s too soon,” he said quietly with a shake of his head. “You’re still hurting and I’m not going to—”

 

“Oh shut it, Malfoy,” she said with a narrowed gaze. 

 

His silver eyes darkened as he stared at her, tracing the curve of her lips before capturing them in another slow kiss. 

 

His hand slid down the curve of her back, kneading the flesh of her bum and she let out a soft moan as she pulled him into her. 

 

Everything was slow and purposeful, from the way he trailed kisses across her stomach before lifting her shirt from her body, to the languid circling of her clit with his tongue before he swiped her entrance. Even her orgasm felt long and leisurely as it washed over her and her thighs tensed around his ears. 

 

The rain pelleting against the thatched roof was the rhythm to which they set their pace and as he climbed up her still spasming body and slid between her folds, she keened, tangling her fingers in fine blond hair. Her lower back arched off the bed and he moved almost lazily inside her, pulling out until only his tip skimmed her entrance before he pressed inside her again. 

 

She repeated his name like a mantra, her arms winding around his neck and pulling him flush against her as he rocked into her. 

 

He pulled back, staring down at her through lidded eyes briefly before kissing her, his tongue thrusting in her mouth in time with his hips. One hand reached back to hitch a knee over his hip and he shifted his angle to reach more deeply inside her, swallowing her moan as he hit the spot inside her that shattered her all over again.

 

Their lips parted as he came, and she watched his features pinch he found his orgasm buried within her. 

Collapsed on top of her, he was careful not to drop all of his weight over her, and he turned his face into her curls. She could feel his lips part, as if he were about to say something but instead warm breath just fanned over in a soft huff. 

 

She felt it too. The thing she thought he was going to say… 

 

But she didn’t dare say it. Instead, her nails trailed lazily down his sculpted back and she stared at the rain sliding down the windowpane. 

 

XXXXX

 

Harry and Ron seemed to slowly reemerge as themselves. Their cheeks filled out nicely and their eyes became more clear each day. They still startled too easily, always looking over their shoulders for the next threat. But she could almost see her friends again underneath it all. 

 

“What are you drinking?” Hermione asked with a furrowed brow as she entered the parlour at Grimmauld, her first stop after her bed rest. 

 

Her friends sat on opposite couches, both with tumblers in their hands, a bottle of Firewhiskey between them. 

 

‘The good stuff,” Ron grinned, his eyes hazy with alcohol. “Want some?”

 

“Since when do you two drink spirits?” She chuckled, taking the seat next to Ron and stealing the glass from his hands. 

 

“Since when do you sleep with Malfoy?” Harry asked, one brow perched high above his glasses. The whiskey hit her throat at the exact wrong moment and she spewed the burning liquid out of her mouth. 

 

“Merlin, ‘Mione!” Ron cried, flinching away from her as though she’d just vomited on the carpet. 

 

“‘Scuse me?” she managed once her hacking had died away and she could properly wipe her mouth. 

 

Harry shrugged. “The question is valid.”

 

Straightening her spine, she peered down her nose at her friend. “And who said I’m sleeping with him?” 

 

It was Ron’s turn to pipe up as he reached for his glass and then thought better of it, since she had spat all over it. He instead reached directly for the bottle. “Well he was awfully _ ‘chummy’ _ with you the other night. And given that you and Malfoy are rarely ‘chummy’, and more likely murderous towards each other, it seems to be the logical explanation.”

 

Harry gave an audible groan. “Chummy? Mate, he had his tongue in her mouth! What’s the deal? Hate fucking each other or something?”

 

Hermione flushed scarlet as she once again tipped the glass to her lips, this time relishing the slow burn down her throat. 

 

“Fred and George say he’s not so bad now that he’s out from under his daddy’s boot heel.” Ron shrugged, taking a long swig from the bottle and then resting casually back in his corner of the sofa. “I’m still calling him a git until I see otherwise.”

 

“He’s not so bad,” Hermione allowed. “Sometimes he’s almost pleasant honestly. Although mostly he’s simply tolerable.” 

 

“I saw him that night, the night he confessed.” Harry’s emerald gaze was distant, lost in a memory. “Watched the whole thing and I don’t think it’s possible for me to go back to thinking he’s a twisted evil fuck. He was fucking weeping, Ron.”

 

“Eh, weeping?” Ron asked skeptically, pushing the fringe of his too-long hair from his eyes. “Malfoy? I call bollocks.” 

 

Harry laughed, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “I mean, I’m not saying I want to be his buddy and I certainly think you’re too good for him Hermione, but all I’m saying is he’s not an evil fuck. Just a regular fuck.” 

 

The alcohol buzzed between Hermione’s ears and she laughed softly into her glass. “I missed you two.” 

 

Ron reached up to tug on her shoulders until she was leaning into his side and he rested his cheek onto her curls. “Missed you too, ‘Mione. More than you know.”

 

XXXXX

 

**A/N: I am going to try so hard to crank out another chapter ASAP because I’m stupidly excited to share the next chapter!! Thank you endlessly for all of your encouragement and shouting at me despite my self doubt! You guys are the absolute best and I love hearing every single thought you have.**

 

**Alpha Love: MCal**

**Beta Babe: InDreams**

  
  



	11. Eleven

Several sudden cracks of Apparition roused Hermione and Draco from their sleep, sheets pooling at their waists as they blinked in the darkness. In a frenzy, they grabbed what they could, Hermione throwing on her threadbare robe, while Draco hopped into a pair of sweats. Wands in hand, they threw the bedroom door open and met a sleepy but strangely alert Theo who was just tugging a t-shirt over his shoulders. 

 

No one wasted time with pleasantries as they stormed through the house, towards the sounds of wailing on the front lawn. Wrenching the door open, Hermione stilled, the two Slytherins slamming into her back as they all skidded to a stop. 

 

“Merlin, fuck—” Draco cursed and pushed past her down the porch stairs, Theo hot on his heels. 

 

_ How were they moving so fast? How could they make sense of what was happening?  _

 

Hermione watched a moment longer. A mop of red curls was being cradled in Ginny’s lap as she wiped blood from the man’s face. Red curls… red curls… 

 

A sickening feeling settled over her as she recognized the square of his jaw and the blond peeked through the vibrant crimson staining his hair. 

 

_ Cormac.  _

 

The knot deep in her belly coiled tighter and she quickly padded down the stairs, ignoring the chill of the earth on her bare feet. 

 

A small circle of his team was forming around him and Hermione shoved through, dropping onto her knees next to Ginny. She had assumed the wailing was coming from the injured, but upon closer examination, it was Ginny. 

 

It couldn’t have come from Cormac because his eyes were open and lifeless, his stomach slashed open so that blood pooled on the freezing earth beneath them. 

 

“Hermione! This was the closest safe house, we need uh— _ FUCK _ ! We need Padma or Poppy, okay? Can you send a Patronus? Or do you have dittany? Yes. Dittany might help.” Ginny’s wild eyes tore from Hermione and up at her teammates, her mouth forming an angry snarl. “Move! The lot of you! Do something, you fucking—”

 

“Ginny.” Hermione’s hand reached out, flinching only briefly as she touched the still warm blood coating Ginny’s arm. “Ginny, he’s gone... I’m so s-sorry.” She managed to look down at him once more. The boy with the overzealous hands and the charming smile, his cheeks already pale from the lack of blood and his mouth hanging open in her friend's lap. 

 

“He’s not—he’s not, okay? Just get something.  _ Do something _ !” Her scream turned to a sob as she brought the back of her forearm to her mouth and broke down into the crook of her arm. 

 

Seamus kneeled in the blood next to her as she let out a feral scream, shoving him hard in the chest. He wavered briefly, paying no mind to the bloodied handprints on his linen shirt as he crushed her to his chest, banding his thick arms around her shoulders as she thrashed. 

 

Hermione’s mouth puckered as hot tears slid down her cheeks, watching her friend fall apart with a dead boy in her lap. Ginny’s broken breaths echoed through the forest as finally, Seamus disentangled her from Cormac’s corpse and brought her to standing. 

 

“Shhh, shhh—I know," Seamus whispered in his thick Irish burr. 

 

“My fault, my fault,” she managed through her sobs. “He told me— _ hiccup _ —he told me not to get far ahead and—and I did and now—” Ginny looked down once more at the ruined body of her field mate and her knees gave out. She wretched stomach bile into the pine straw at their feet while Seamus supported her weight, his arms still tight around her as her gags turned back to cries. 

 

Luna stepped forward then, patting down Ginny’s messy hair and studying her face seriously. “Let’s get her to Canterbury and call for a medic, yeah? Seamus?” 

 

Seamus nodded firmly and whispered a warning in Ginny’s ear before they disappeared in a plume of his magic. 

 

Hermione lifted bloodied hands to her face to wipe her tears, but when her gaze fell on the crimson staining her palms she blanched and took a stuttering step backward. Malfoy’s arms wound around her, just as Seamus’ had around Ginny and his fingers swept the tears from her cheeks as she buried her face in his bare chest. 

 

“What the fuck happened?” Malfoy hissed, staring at the remaining members of Team One and the dead boy between them. 

 

Dean took a tentative step forward, his eyes heavy with guilt and misting from too much emotion. “It was an extraction—” 

 

Hermione’s head snapped from Draco’s embrace and she moved to storm at Dean before Malfoy snatched her elbow, effectively holding her back. “Extraction?” she hissed, her chest still tight from overwhelming grief. “We’re kids! Why the hell are they sending you in to extract anyone?”

 

The point in Dean’s throat bobbed and he tilted his chin up. “An Auror was discovered by the  _ ‘Ministry’ _ —” He said it in a way that made it obvious that he was in no way referring to the actual Ministry of Magic, and instead Voldemort’s regime that was now fronting the government. “His family came, begging for help, and we were dispatched to a cabin in northern West Sussex. That’s why we came here—closest jump.” 

 

Theo stepped forward, his brow worried. “Did you get him at least?” 

 

Luna and Dean averted their gazes over the cliffs and Neville shook his head solemnly. “He was dead when we got there; we were ambushed and we were bloody lucky they seemed to recruit like us.”

 

Theo and Malfoy shared a meaningful look before Theo spoke again. “Anyone from school? Anyone we’d know?” 

 

Neville responded with a snort. “There’s no way of telling, mate. The masks. It’s fucking unnerving, they all look the same. You’ve no idea if you're facing down Dolohov or Goyle.” 

 

Hermione could feel the tension rolling off Draco behind her, but thankfully, he remained silent. 

 

“But—they can see us,” Neville said, his voice haunted and his eyes glazed. “They know us and can identify us and it makes you feel—makes you feel—” His words died in the air between them as Luna wrapped her slender arms around his middle. 

 

Silence sat heavy on all of them and Hermione tried to ignore the quivering of her jaw as she neatly avoided staring at her feet, focusing instead on the rising sun over the cliff setting the landscape on fire.

 

Luna was the first to move after several long minutes, flourishing her wand through the air and conjuring a white sheet from the small medical corner inside. She floated it overtop Cormac and took a step back, chin tucked low. 

 

“We’ll head to Bristol and debrief them. They said in an event like this to get the... _ body _ —”  Her voice trembled. “To the nearest safe house and they’ll send someone to collect it. We should go.” Luna nodded to Neville and Dean and they all drew their wands, disappearing with quiet pops and leaving their teammate on the cold Surrey ground. 

 

Hermione’s throat tightened as she watched blood leak through the thin white sheet and a shiver worked its way up her spine as the stain spread from his middle. 

 

“Let’s get inside,” Malfoy said quietly, tugging on her elbow. 

 

Hermione wrenched it back, her feet planted firmly and her lips tight. 

 

“Granger, it’s freezing. You’re barefoot and mostly naked. Let’s get inside,” Malfoy tried again, this time more firmly. 

 

“I’m not leaving him out here alone.” She flicked her wrist and mumbled a summoning spell. A pair of boots and her winter cloak soared through the air and she snatched them easily.

 

Malfoy levied a tired sigh and turned back for the house as the sun finally broke free over the horizon. “Let me get some clothes. I’ll be right back.” 

 

As he retreated, Hermione donned her clothing, transfiguring a stump into a bench and taking a seat. Theo joined her, still barefoot and in a thin undershirt. 

 

“You don’t have to wait,” she said quietly, pulling on her fingers. 

 

“I know.” Theo gulped and wrapped a nervous arm around her, warming her by rubbing his hand up and down her back. “Just ‘til Malfoy gets back. I don’t want you to be out here alone.”

 

Hermione’s throat tightened again, accompanied by a prickling of her sinuses, and she nodded, grateful for the company. 

 

XXXXX

 

Trueman showed up some time later, offering Hermione a hard clap on the shoulder and a tight smile before he dropped a portkey on Cormac’s chest and disappeared in a silent Apparition a moment later. 

 

Malfoy stayed silent next to her, even after Cormac had gone and the sun was starting to warm the air, if only slightly. When she let out a resigned sigh and cast  _ Tergeo _ over the blood-soaked earth, Malfoy stood, offering his hand. 

 

On the far side of the cottage, behind the medical corner, was the magicked board from Grimmauld. The one with the two columns: MIA - KIA. 

 

Hermione’s chest spasmed as she saw C. McLaggen listed under KIA - Killed in Action. Standing there, she knew. Everything had changed this morning; there was no going back. 

 

XXXXX

 

Both Malfoy and Theo didn’t last long in Surrey house after Hermione disappeared into her bedroom. She heard them talking softly to each other and when Malfoy peeked his head in, announcing they were heading out for a bit, she barely managed a nod. 

 

It wasn’t so much that it was Cormac— or maybe it was. Maybe it was the simultaneous knowing and not-knowing of him that left her so bereaved. She knew that he chewed on his nail beds and would have made a much better Keeper than Ron. Knew that he liked to kiss girls in the Common Room even though there were far more hidden places to do so. She knew that his hands were large and made her feel small and feminine under his touch. 

 

But she didn’t know things that mattered. Didn’t know the last book he read or what he wanted to do after the war. Didn’t know if he had a girl he liked to call his or his favorite color. 

 

They’d all grown up together. She supposed it only made sense they died together as well. 

 

But maybe only after they’d seen a little more of the world, when it wasn’t dripping blood and dark magic; maybe they could have seen something worth loving and keeping first.

 

A sharp tap on the window drew her from her thoughts and as she sat up, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her gaze settled on an irate Gofer, his feathers wet from the rain and a severe curve to his brow. She snagged her wand and with a quick flick of her wrist, her window opened and he swooped in, perching on the end of the wire bedframe and giving a single low hoot. 

 

“Hello, you.” She gave him a shaky smile and leaned forward on her belly, resting her elbows at the end of the bed. Her trembling fingers slid over his damp feathers, smoothing them back into their rightful place before something else upset the temperamental little bird and he ruffled them again. “Did you hear? We lost one today.” 

 

Another cry worked it’s way up her throat and she buried her face in the crook of her arm, sobbing. The mattress dipped lightly, and she felt the nuzzle of tufted feathers against her hair, a low hoot comforting her. 

 

She laughed lightly, lifting her head up and staring at the golden-eyed bird with misty eyes. “Sweet Gofer. I knew you were all bark and no bite.” 

 

He quickly nipped at her with his pointed beak and she drew back with a laugh. 

 

“Hah. Hah. Very funny. Do you have something for me? Or just a friendly visit?”

 

Gofer stuck his leg out at an odd angle, tilting his chin as if he were just too above the call of being a messenger. 

 

Hermione took the scroll and unrolled it, her brows falling low as she read over the neat swirly scrawl. 

 

**_Hermione -_ **

 

**_Memorial bonfire tonight at Canterbury house. 8:00 - Hope to see you._ **

 

**_X- Luna_ **

 

The sides of her throat closed in, her lips forming a sad grimace as she fought off a fresh round of tears. “Thank you, Gofer.” 

 

The unsightly bird tucked his ears and pressed the side of his face against Hermione’s shoulder for a moment and then swooped towards the open window. She watched, ready for him to take flight, but he didn’t. 

 

Instead, he sat at the window perch, staring out into the evening. Hermione curled back into her former spot, cushioned by too-flat pillows with the tiny owl watching over her. 

 

XXXXX

 

Her feet landed in the soft grass, and looming in front of her was the silhouette of Canterbury house, lovely, large, and strikingly white. She stepped through the garden gate covered in thick ivy and right out the back door was a roaring bonfire with dozens of her friends sitting around it. 

 

The chill was frigid and it cut through the thick fabric of her wool coat. Rubbing her gloved hands together, she breathed into her hands just to feel the heat blow back into her face. 

 

Around the fire, the feeling in the group was tense. Fred and George sat leaning forward on their knees each cradling a bottle of beer. Ginny was beside them, her face whiter than normal despite the golden glow coming off the flames. Seamus, Neville, and Dean were passing back and forth a bottle of firewhisky while the rest of the group spoke in low murmured voices as they stared passively into the fire. 

 

“Hey, everyone,” Hermione said, her chin tucked into her crimson scarf as she approached the warmth of the fire. Neville extended his arm, proffering the half-full bottle to her. 

 

She hesitated and Seamus, red-faced with drunkenness nodded firmly. “For Mclaggen.” 

 

Hermione’s lips twitched and she caved, taking it gingerly from his hand. “For Cormac.” 

 

Fred stood, lifting his bottle towards the fire, a weary weight heavy on his shoulders. “A true Gryffindor ‘til the end.” 

 

“MCLAGGEN!” Dean shouted and the rest of the group stood and repeated after him. 

 

Once again, Hermione felt the impending tears as she managed a small sip of whisky, scorching her throat. 

 

Almost an hour passed, and as the liquor loosened everyone’s tongue, they all began spewing their favorite stories of Mclaggen. Before long Hermione was doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach as Seamus regaled their group about the night that Mclaggen fell over drunk after having too many frozen strawberry drinks at a Muggle pub. 

 

From inside the house, Theo and Malfoy emerged, Remus right behind them. She stilled, her instincts raging, and handed the bottle back to Neville as she crossed the small space to greet them. 

 

“There you two are,” she managed, her tongue heavy with drink. “Professor Lupin,” she nodded in way of greeting. 

 

“I told you—” He waved his hand dismissively. “Remus is quite alright.” 

 

Malfoy’s eyes were trained on the fire and when her gaze floated over to Theo, she noticed the soft blush staining his cheeks as he stared at the laces of his shoes. 

 

“What are you three up to?” It was in no way a question and in every way dripping with accusation, and she watched the nearly imperceptible way Malfoy’s gaze tightened, even the click of his jaw. 

 

“These boys just volunteered to join us in the field!” Remus said with an awkward smile, slapping his hands on their shoulders, and they both winced as he did, no doubt feeling the fresh rage rolling off Hermione. 

 

Her molars ground together as she gritted out a single, “ _ What _ ?”

 

Remus gave a nervous laugh, his eyes widening as he took in Hermione’s furious glare. “That’s right. The newest members of Team One—” 

 

“Are you fucking crazy?” Hermione took an angry step towards Malfoy and he retreated, the tendons of his throat tightening as Theo skirted around them, heading for the fire. “I’m not done with you either, Nott!” 

 

Baring his teeth and realizing his lashing would be coming at a later time, he and Remus made for the group of team members staring at the altercation with a keen eye. 

 

“Explain yourself,” Hermione clipped, her chest rising and falling in shallow, determined breaths. 

 

“I’m not sitting back while this shit is happening, Granger," he scoffed. "I can’t sit and drool over maps when I could be out there stopping it from happening in the first place. Alright? I know you think this fight is all yours, but it’s not. It’s been a part of my life longer, actually, and I need to end it.” 

 

Malfoy turned on his heel, making for the fire and Hermione stepped quickly around him, slamming her palms into his chest and letting out an angry grunt. “ _ Bullshite _ ! It’s not safe—” 

 

“ _ And it is for them _ ?” he shouted back at her, his face dipping until their noses nearly bumped. “Get it through your fucking skull, Granger. It’s war. And me being out there, and being far better than most of them, is going to save some of their lives. And if that means that I go down, then I go down.” 

 

“ _ SHUT UP! _ ” Fresh, painful sobs wracked her body and she landed fist after fist into his strong chest. “Cormac just died.  _ He died _ , Malfoy. And you’re signing up to go where he went? Are you fucking crazy?” 

 

In the dim light reaching them from the fire, she saw something flicker across his face. “When you find something worth fighting for, Granger. You fight.” 

 

Hermione’s head threw back in a withering scoff. “Oh, and today you found something, did you? Bullshite. You call me reckless. You call me glory-hungry and adventure-driven—but you’re the same!” 

 

“It’s you!” he shouted, his hands gesticulating wildly at his sides. “Can’t you see that? It’s you. I’m going out there for  _ you _ . I’m not someone who is going to fall on my knees and recite romantic nothings or anything of the sort. But I can  _ do _ something. I can take down a couple of those fuckers and put them in the dirt before they get me. And if that makes this world a little safer for you—then I’ll do it. And I’ll volunteer again and again and  _ again _ . So don’t sit here and call me a Gryffindor. I don’t do these things for me, Granger.” 

 

The rattling of her teeth as her jaw quivered was the only sound in the dense quiet around them. Fury and rage bubbled under her skin and she turned towards the fire. 

 

“Remus!” 

 

Lupin turned, his face pinched uncomfortably. “Yes, Hermione?” 

 

She took a purposeful step forward, levying a heavy breath. “I’ll take Cormac’s spot on Team One. I want to be out there.” 

 

Remus’ lips folded in as he stepped over a log serving as a bench and walked towards them. “I can’t do that, Hermione.” 

 

Hermione blinked, her head drawing back in confusion. “Why not? They volunteered—” She jerked her chin towards Malfoy and Nott. “Ron is out on missions sometimes. It won’t interfere—” 

 

Lupin raised his palms, his features falling slightly. “That’s not the reason.”  

 

Hermione barked out an offended laugh. “There’s an actual reason? You have girls on these teams that have far less experience than I do. So if this is because of my gender, I swear I’ll—” 

 

Remus’ gaze flickered to the wizard behind her and Hermione turned wildly, her eyes darkening on Malfoy for a moment before returning to her old professor. 

 

“It’s a condition they’ve demanded, Hermione. You aren’t allowed on any field missions unless Harry's there,” Remus said, leaning in, his voice low. 

 

“What? Whose condition? What are you talking about?” Hermione shook her head until her curls were bouncing off her cheeks.

 

Remus nodded behind her to Malfoy and the pieces clicked painfully into place. Her eyes fluttered closed as a red beast flared in her chest, twinging the back of her lids in a violent red. “You said _ ‘they’ _ ?”

 

Hermione turned towards the fire and Theo stood there, his chin high and hands shoved in his trouser pockets. They’d betrayed her. Bought her safety with their lives. 

 

“Granger—” Malfoy started. 

 

He was quickly cut off by her palm whipping across his face. Malfoy’s hand immediately shot up to cradle the offended cheek and his glare landed fiercely on her. It took all her strength to settle that beast in her that was rattling in her ribs, begging to be set free and she pumped her fingers into a fist a few times to relieve the sting from the blow. 

 

“You’re a fucking bastard, Draco Malfoy.” 

 

She turned her back on the fire and as soon as she felt the ward give way, she Disapparated. 

 

XXXXX

 

**A/N: Gulp. The muse was kind today and I was able to get out another chapter! YAY!**

 

**Would love to hear our thoughts on the chapter!**

 

**Alpha love: Mcal**

**Beta Babe: InDreams**

 

**You two are my queens. Check out InDreams new summer love fic, Boardwalk! I had the pleasure of Alpha’ing it and I’ll tell you right now it’s fucking awesome.**

 

**MCal is posting some incredible Marader era short stories and you should** **_sprint_ ** **to read them. JAMIONEEEEE!!**

 

**Find me on Tumblr or Facebook (Toni Kenz).**

 

**Until next time - LK**

  
  



	12. Twelve

Hermione landed in Surrey with a throbbing headache, her stomach roiling with nausea as she fought the mixture of bile and whisky rising up her throat. Apparition after liquor was never a good idea. But if she knew Malfoy, and she was fairly certain she did, then his Apparition was going to be following soon behind. 

 

Storming through the front door, she made quickly for her bedroom, barely registering the two faint pops from outside. 

 

As hastily as she could, she threw up a locking charm and ripped her coat from her arms, pacing back and forth as she waited. 

 

There were two sets distinct of footprints in the house, one quieter and one far more determined and it took only a moment until the doorknob of her room was rattling back and forth, followed by a fist beating against the wood. 

 

“Granger!”

 

She remained silent, her eyes narrowing at even the thought of him out there. How could he do this? It had been  _ one _ incident of her being negligent.  _ One _ . One in the many, many, many times that she had been overly prepared and diligent. One was all it took for Draco bleeding Malfoy to assume that he should take up the mantle of her protector. 

 

The handle shook again, followed by a long sigh. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine him running his hands through his platinum fringe and closing his eyes. 

 

“Granger—” She could hear the desperation in his voice and while the outer layer of ice around her heart may have fractionally thawed, the majority remained frozen to his plea. “Can we just talk? Let me explain.”

 

A knot formed in the back of her throat and she tamped it back down with a hard swallow. There were words desperate to escape, to claw up her throat and be heard, but the ice won. She couldn’t bear the sight of him. “ _ Nox _ ,” she whispered, the dim light extinguishing as she crawled into bed. 

 

She heard him let go of a hard breath against the door, followed by the few short footsteps to the room across the hall. 

 

XXXXX

 

Sleep didn’t find her, not really. As the early morning light filtered through the cheap vinyl blinds, Hermione stretched the fatigue from her weary bones and realized just how little she’d rested. Turning on her side, she reached over towards the empty space, her fingers splaying across the cold sheets as her jaw hitched. 

 

As much as she hadn’t wanted to admit it these past few weeks, things were changing. And not in the momentous ways that shattered her reality, but in the ones that only made sense in the dead of the night. When the moon was high and the quiet was stifling, she knew that the reason she cared so much if Malfoy was out in the field, was that she couldn’t stomach the idea of seeing him under that thin cotton sheet. That of all the things she knew she could survive, she would never come back from seeing his name scrawled along that chalkboard in any column. 

 

And then his confession—Merlin, his confession. He was doing it for  _ her _ ? Well, bollocks to that. She didn’t need anyone doing anything for her. Certainly not. And who in the hell were Lupin and the rest of the jolly little crew to go along with this inane plan?

 

Idiots. The whole lot of them. 

 

There was shuffling down the hall, a few open and closed cupboards and then a minute later, a short crack of Apparition. Just one. 

 

When things felt overwhelming in her life, there were a few tricks she had to make sense of the madness. 

 

Step one: Deep breaths. Focus on identifying and naming the scents around her until her anxiety calmed. But as her nostrils filled with cedar and musk and too expensive cologne, her heart clenched. This room was just as much Draco’s these days, and from the reading glasses on the nightstand to his scents on the sheets, it all served as a painful reminder of his absence. 

 

Step two: Easy, manageable steps. Shower. Get Dressed. Eat. 

 

Things always felt a little easier after that. Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she made for the shower, dipping into the bathroom without a single look over her shoulder. 

 

XXXXX

 

When she finally emerged from her room, ringlets still soaked and her heart fluttering freely around her chest, she made for the kitchen. She stopped mid-step as the smell and sounds of bacon cooking filled her nostrils and her eyes narrowed into tight slits. 

 

Rounding the corner, she expected to see a chagrined Malfoy cooking her breakfast. And the sight of Theo standing at the frying pan with a low and serious brow threw her for a loop. 

 

“ _ Oh _ . Morning, Theo,” she said pleasantly. “Smells good.” 

 

He managed a wary look over at her. “You’re not cross with me?” 

 

Snorting, her eyes rolled back in her head as she leaned back casually on the round table adjacent to the kitchen. “You might be reaching there. I’m most definitely cross.” 

 

“But not as cross as you are with Malfoy?”

 

Her chin tilted to the side as she considered it. “No.” 

 

He pulled a few crackling pieces of bacon out of the grease and laid them on a linen covered plate, not sparing a look in her direction. “And why’s that?”

 

Hermione took a moment to mull it over and truthfully, there wasn’t a very good reason why. It felt like more of a betrayal from Malfoy, certainly. He knew things about her that Theo never would and he knew that taking the decision away from her was unforgivable. Yet, still, he did it anyway. 

 

Her ribs closed in tightly on her lungs and she felt that same creeping emotion climb up her throat, threatening to materialize in the form of sobs. “Why’d you do it, Theo?” she countered, loosening a tight breath stuck in her ribs. “This is bloody stupid in and of itself and then you make that ridiculous condition? Why?”

 

The last of the bacon was removed and he moved the pan from the burner before leaning on the counter, tucking his chin into his chest. “Malfoy’s my best mate. He’s all I’ve got left—” 

 

“That’s not true,” she interjected. “You have all of us. You have me.” 

 

His lips quirked and he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but not like I have Malfoy. I don’t think you know the risks he took in defecting—in getting me out with him. When he told Dumbledore he wanted out, they wanted him out that night. The Order was going to get him under their protection and hidden until things settled down.” 

 

Hermione felt like she was getting a glimpse into something intimate and private and it coiled in her stomach uncomfortably. 

 

“He made  _ two _ stops.” Theo paused, lifting two fingers in the air. “Death Eaters were storming the castle, but he made it to the Dungeons for me first and that’s where we waited for Snape. The following morning we were at Gringotts before it opened. He emptied his trust before we went underground. In that time it took him to get down to me, he could have been found out. Hell, he could have been dragged up there to kill Dumbledore himself... He did that for me.” Theo rubbed a tired hand down his face before training his eyes up at the ceiling. “I’d do anything for him, Hermione.” 

 

The casual use of her given name sobered her and she blinked a few times until his words settled in fully. “He can’t keep me out of this war.” 

 

A hollow laugh vibrated through his chest. “I know. But he wants to try and if asks me to help him do that, I’ll do it. He really does love you, in his own twisted type of way.” 

 

Hermione’s throat scorched as she swallowed. “I think I know that…” 

 

“I know you gotta drag his arse a bit for thinking he knows best, but give him a break. This is the first time he’s felt this way about a girl. He’s rubbish at it but he’s doing his best.” Theo’s lips pulled up in a lopsided little smile and she returned it, nodding in agreement. 

 

“Maybe I’d consider it for some bacon.” 

 

“Deal!” Theo clapped his hands together and turned back towards the stove. “Eggs too, if you give me a minute.” 

 

She huffed a happy little noise and turned back towards the window. “Where’d he go anyway?”

 

“Bristol.” There was a long moment of heavy silence before Theo spoke again. “Our first mission is tonight.” 

 

Hermione sucked in a harsh, cold breath as he spoke and laid her trembling hands on the back of the chair. 

 

XXXXX

 

Hermione donned her winter coat and sat on the steps of Surrey house, waiting. Her mind wandered to any of the various missions that might be taking these two away from safety and the thrashing of anxiety in her chest kept causing her warming charm to fail. 

 

The late afternoon sun waned low in the sky and whatever warmth it had been gifting was swiftly gone. 

 

Malfoy’s Apparition didn’t alarm her, her brows merely flickering as the soft pop sounded in the air. She could hear the crunching of leaves and the very scent of him overwhelmed her. Her lips tightened into a firm line as hot emotion pricked at her sinuses. 

 

“Granger,” Malfoy said, although it was really more of a sigh. “Don’t be cross with me.” 

 

“Didn’t I tell you?” Her lips pulled into a tight, false smile. “You can count on me being cross with you for the foreseeable future.” 

 

The steps creaked under his weight as he found a small space next to her, his knee brushing against hers. “Lestrange Manor was too close. You could have been killed and I don’t think you’re taking it seriously—”

 

Fresh rage bubbled to surface as her teeth ground together. “Who are you to tell me what I am not taking seriously? I told you, I’m done with people deciding what I’ve earned. How dare you keep me from volunteering.” 

 

“Bollocks, Granger.” Malfoy’s lip curled up into a sneer. “You weren’t even on a team, had no intention of volunteering for a team—” Hermione tried to interject at that but he continued on with his rant without pause. “It wasn’t until  _ I _ did that you even decided to make a show of it, and now you want to drag my arse for it? It’s bullshite.”

 

“No. What’s  _ bullshite _ is you thinking you have the authority—” 

 

Malfoy’s hands shot up wildly and he jumped to his feet, turning so he could look down on her. “ _ No! _ I don’t have the authority. I offered a very clear decision for the three in charge. Theo and I know a lot about these fortresses and estates and we aren’t shite at dark magic either. I told them I wouldn’t go if you’re going because I knew you’d get all  Gryffindor and jump on the opportunity to charge ahead wands blazing.  _ They _ have the authority, Granger.  _ They _ have it and  _ they _ chose. I’m sorry if you don’t like my methods, but listen, love,” Draco huffed, carding his fingers through his platinum fringe. “You knew you were getting involved with a Slytherin.”

 

Hermione sprung to her feet, once again jamming her hands into his chest as he took a staggering step back, running his tongue along his teeth. “I don’t give a shit where some mangy old hat sorted you. I am not yours to protect!”

 

“Granger! I am bloody in lov—” The start of that particular word startled the pair of them and simultaneously they both took a step backward. Malfoy’s eyes clenched shut as he pinched the wrinkle on the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I will not apologize for trying to do what I think is best. I took nothing away from you. You’re still on the Horcruxes hunt and with Potter on every mission. I am simply asking that you not storm into Pureblood estates for the simple fact that I don’t want you dead.” 

 

Hermione felt the shake in her ribs as she tried to calm her breath and she stormed past him, letting her shoulder ram into his arm on the way. As soon as she was past the proper wards, she spun on her heel, her world collapsing around her as she Disapparated.

 

XXXXX

 

With nowhere in particular to go, Hermione landed at Canterbury house. Working her way through the eerily quiet rooms of the farmhouse, she saw her friends in various places, all sporting the same sour expression. 

 

The quiet was deafening as she crept down the hall towards the bright kitchen. Luna offered her a small smile from the dining room table, although she didn’t speak, instead turning to rest her head back on Neville’s shoulder. Something tugged Hermione further towards the kitchen and when she saw Ginny tucked into the alcove by the window with a few tears sliding down her cheeks, she knew exactly what that something was. 

 

Wordlessly, Hermione sat down next to her friend, curling her legs underneath her and staring at the gaggle of geese making their way across the lawn. They shared the silence for a few minutes; the only noise in the space was Ginny sucking in shaky breaths. 

 

“It’s not your fault, Gin,” Hermione said firmly, earning a fresh round of cries from her friend. “It’s not. I promise.”

 

“He told me not to get ahead, Hermione. I’m his fucking partner!” Realization flashed over her features and her hand flew up to her lips, hovering over the words she had just spoken. “ _ Was _ . I  _ was _ his partner.” 

 

Hermione’s face screwed up on one side and she slid into the spot next to Ginny, wrapping her arm around her shoulders. 

 

“I’m so sorry.” The words fell flat and useless between them, but it was all she had to offer. 

 

“Hermione?” Turning over her shoulder, Hermione saw Harry and Ron in the door frame, a rolled up newspaper in Harry’s hand. He lifted it, his lips folding in briefly as he jerked his chin. “Got a minute?”

 

Hermione gave a final squeeze to Ginny’s leg and pressed a quick kiss to her temple before sliding out of the bench. 

 

Soundlessly, she followed her friends to the small study and stepped over the threshold as Ron pressed the door closed behind them. 

 

“Okay, what’s going on with you two?” Hermione’s gaze flitted between them as Harry handed over the rolled up newspaper. 

 

Unfurling it, her brows tugged together and she stared at a moving photo of none other than Dolores Umbridge. She was beaming under the attention of several photographers, her toad-like face looking pleased as punch. 

 

“Is this supposed to mean something to me?” Hermione shrugged. “It looks like the Minister is blowing smoke up her—”

 

“Her necklace, ‘Mione.” Harry took a step towards her, his forefinger pointing to the oddly-shaped locket hanging from her neck. 

 

The breath caught in Hermione’s throat and she brought the photograph closer, staring at the identical design from the one Harry had brought back from the cave. 

 

The blood drained from her face, her eyes shooting up to Ron for a moment before finding Harry’s intense emerald glare. “Is this—is this what I think it is?”

 

“You’re bloody fucking right,” Ron snorted, taking a few steps until the three of them were standing in a tight triangle. 

 

It was Hermione’s turn to snort as she pressed the paper into Ron’s chest. “It’s impossible.”

 

“It can’t be impossible, Hermione,” Harry said, his voice shaking. “It’s the only way.” A seriousness settled over them and Hermione dragged in a harsh breath. “We need you.” 

 

Her head fell back until her curls were nearly at her waist and she sighed. Her own problems would need to wait, it seemed. 

 

XXXXX

 

She stayed at Canterbury until after dark; until Malfoy and Nott materialized on the back lawn, and her stomach lurched. 

 

Stepping out into the chilly air, Hermione felt that pang of her heart clenching as she watched Malfoy cross the lawn to her. 

 

Seeing Ginny in such a state earlier had softened her; one never knows when it’s going to be the last time, and she didn’t want the last time to be like before. 

 

Malfoy seemed to pick up on it as well. Sliding his hand along the curve of her cheek, his thumb swept lazy lines across her cheekbones. She let herself memorize him for a moment, the specks of blue in his eyes, barely visible in the dim light provided through the massive windows to their left. The bow of his lip and the smell of cedar and cologne on his clothes. 

 

“Where are you going?” she said quietly, her hands moving up to rest on his chest, her fingers curling into the wool of his jumper. 

 

His lips quirked and he took a step into her; his hand slid to the back of her neck, threading through her curls as he pressed his lips against her forehead. “You won’t like it if I tell you.” 

 

“I don't like it either way,” she scoffed. 

 

“We’re going to the Ministry—” 

 

“ _ Of Magic _ ?” Her eyes blew wide and she took a quick step back, searching his face for the joke. 

 

“No.” Malfoy deadpanned. “The Ministry of Hopes and Wishes. _ Of course, _ the Ministry of Magic. Don’t make that face—we’ll be in and out. Some of the Aurors are on patrol and we are just heading for the archives. In and out.” 

 

“Why? What on earth—”

 

“ _ Malfoy _ !” Seamus called from the lawn and Malfoy’s eyes flitted over to him, giving him a single nod. 

 

“I’ve got to go. I’ll be back soon, okay?” 

 

A million words echoed between her ears and all she bloody wanted was to make everything better; this couldn’t be the last time. He pressed his lips to her hairline and turned to pad down the stairs, but anxiety swelled in her as the words  _ ‘the last time’  _ echoed in her mind. 

 

His foot touched the first step and she cried out for him. Before he could even fully turn, she was crashing into him, her arms locking around his neck as her lips moved hard against his. She could feel the relief loosen in his shoulders as his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her slightly until just her toes were touching the worn wood of the porch. 

 

Their tongues tangled briefly and the kiss stirred something powerful in her belly. It was different than the blind lust his kisses usually wrought, instead it was heavy and hard and it shattered in her heart. 

 

“ _ Malfoy _ !” Seamus screamed again and their lips parted, panting breaths the only noise between them. “The Portkey leaves now! Kiss her when you get back.” 

 

Malfoy set her down, his lips pulling into a smirk. “I’ll do more than that when I get back.” His palm came down lightly on her bum and she let out a choked laugh as he pressed his lips to hers once more. “I’ll see you when I get back.” 

 

“See you,” she whispered as he raced down the stairs. 

 

He turned, jogging backward for a moment as he shouted, “ _ And don’t lock the door this time _ !”

 

Hermione’s chest huffed in amusement and she nodded. 

 

She stayed on the porch awhile longer, far past when the Portkeys had whisked the teams away, kept company by the lingering foreboding washing over her. 

 

XXXXX

 

**A/N: I just love and adore your feedback. Have I said that yet? Because it’s true, true, true.**

 

**Alpha Love: MCal**

**Beta Babe: InDreams**

  
  



	13. Thirteen

**Recommended Song: Safe Inside by James Arthur**

 

They sat—Ginny and herself—staring out the alcove window as the sun began its slow rise over the horizon. Light flooded the backyard and Hermione’s jaw began to quiver. She had told herself that she wouldn’t let herself worry until morning. Which it now, technically, was.

 

Why weren’t they bloody back yet? Archives her arse. 

 

Hermione was startled as Ginny’s fingers wrapped around hers, offering her a tight smile in the way of consolation. Something snapped in her and she jumped from her seat, fighting off the tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. “I have to leave. When they come back, just tell them I had to go back to Surrey house?”

 

“Hermione—”

 

Running a nervous hand through her hair, she huffed out a harsh breath. “I’m expecting a supply shipment this morning and you know Gofer will peck my eyes out if I’m not there to receive it.” 

 

She stormed from the house, the early morning chill cutting through her clothes as she jogged past the wards and disapparated. 

 

XXXXX

 

Hermione's gaze flickered to the clock on the wall and her molars ground painfully together; it was nearly noon. Slamming her book shut, her worry transformed to rage. 

 

This was just irresponsible. That’s what it really was. How dare they not check in; Hermione had it on very good authority that most of those members knew how to cast a Patronus, and not sending one was a clear disregard for the sanity of those left behind. 

 

Idiots—All of them. 

 

As much as she tried not to, she couldn’t stop her gaze from floating to the magicked chalkboard in the corner. No new updates had come to Bristol and thus, no news was still—relatively—good news. 

 

Suddenly, there was a faint pop outside and Hermione stilled, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried not to imagine the worst. Hell, at this point she didn’t want to imagine anything because getting her hopes up simply to have them destroyed would be worse. 

 

They had to be fine.  _ Merlin, let them be fine _ .

 

Burying her face in her hands, she refused to look up as she heard the slow creaking of the front door, followed by a gust of wind that smelled like cedar and cologne and she let out a broken breath. She peered through her fingers and her throat tightened as Theo and Malfoy came into view. 

 

Malfoy’s arm was slung around Theo’s shoulders and he appeared to have a limp in his gait as Theo worked him through the front door. 

 

Jumping to her feet, Hermione’s palms landed on either side of Malfoy’s cheeks. She turned his face back and forth as she inspected him for grave injuries. “Merlin! Thank goodness you’re okay! You are okay, aren’t you?”

 

“Never better, Granger.” Malfoy’s lips pulled into his devilish smirk and when he tried to hobble further into the room he winced. Hermione’s features flattened and turned her glare on Theo. 

 

“You, then. What’s wrong with him?” 

 

“Nothing—” Malfoy started only to be abruptly cut off by Theo. 

 

“Burning Charm in his side. We did what we could in the field but it was pretty gnarly and could use a little care—” 

 

“ _ Tender _ care.” Draco’s grin widened and with great effort, Hermione pursed her lips to keep from smiling. “Some might even say tender,  _ loving _ care.” 

 

“You two disgust me,” Theo remarked blandly. “Where do you want him?” 

 

Hermione sighed, her hands landing on her bony hips as her mouth screwed up. At least he was okay. “Our bed is fine. I’ll get the kit and be in.” 

 

Theo and Malfoy began their slow shuffle towards the bedroom, Malfoy hiding his obvious discomfort as they trudged on. 

 

“D’yah hear that, mate?  _ Our _ bed. I think she’s starting to like me.” 

 

“Shut it, Malfoy, or I swear I will jam my wand into your mangled ribs,” Theo grumbled.

 

Hermione chuckled as she made her way to the corner, relief flooding her system simply at having those two bone-heads safe and under the same roof again. She grabbed some healing salve and bandages, Dittany in case the burns were deep—although, given his smug nature, they couldn’t have been all too bad. 

 

She rounded the corner back into their shared bedroom and watched in slow horror as Theo helped Draco shrug off his ruined shirt. Down his left side was a fresh burn; puckered pink skin swirled with a bit of charred flesh and Hermione felt her stomach churn. 

 

“What in the hell did you guys do?” Hermione hissed, rushing into the room and depositing her kit next to him on the bed. “What happened?” Her eyes grew wide and round as she searched Draco’s features. 

 

“Can I maybe tell you after some pain potion and sleep?” He winced again, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “And get these trousers off, they’re too fucking tight.” 

 

“We had to wait it out for a bit and Draco had to take the clothes of a man who was roughly the size of a pubescent teen since his were charred by the curse,” Theo snickered as Hermione helped Draco down to his side. 

 

“Theodore Nott!” Hermione gaped at him, blinking a few slow times. “Are you seriously laughing? Draco was cursed!” 

 

Theo’s lips quirked and he shrugged. “He’s fine. He’s just cranky because he’s tired and hungry.” 

 

“ _ His flesh is charred _ !” Hermione turned her attention back to Malfoy, slipping the button of his denims free and revealing the burn that marred the skin down his hip and thigh as well.

 

“And that’s my cue,” Theo said with wide horrified eyes. “Feel better, Malfoy.” 

 

The door closed quietly behind him and as Hermione worked tenderly around his wound, she felt his gaze on her face. “What?” she murmured. 

 

“Just happy to see your face again, Granger.” She hummed lightly in response, her breath catching as she pulled his trousers down his sculpted hips, revealing a thatch of thick blonde curls. “You called me Draco.” 

 

“What?” she scoffed, her eyes averting as his genitals came into view and she pulled his trousers off the rest of the way. 

 

“Just earlier. When you were talking to Theo. You called me  _ Draco _ .” 

 

Her brow arched, a smile playing on her lips as she tugged the white sheet up and handed it to him so he could cover his genitals. It was hard enough to focus on his injury when his lean muscles were on display in such a way, he could at least cover his prick. She’d never seen his body from such a vantage point; even his thighs, dusted in light blond hair, had strips of taut muscle and Merlin—his bum. Do not even get her started on the sinful curve of his bum. 

 

Her flush deepened and she tried in vain to swallow her nerves. Grabbing two vials from her leather kit, she pulled the stopper out of the first, handing it to him and ignoring his self-righteous smirk. “Pain potion, then dreamless so you aren’t chattering while I tend to you.” 

 

Dipping the vial to his lips, he chuckled. “How can I trust you won’t touch me in my sleep?” 

 

Her features flattened as she took the empty vial from his fingers and replaced it with a freshly unstoppered one. “Don’t be ridiculous, Malfoy.”

 

“What if I want you to?” He teased, winking at her as he drained the second. His limbs slowly relaxed as his weight dipped further into the bed. “I liked it,” he said groggily, his lashes fluttering closed. 

 

Hermione hummed. “Liked what?” 

 

“When you… call me… Draco,” he mumbled softly as his lips parted and he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

 

Hermione knelt next to his face, leaning her forearms across the mattress and brushing the fringe back from his brow. “ _ Draco _ ,” she whispered, a smile playing on her lips as she tried it out. 

 

XXXXX

 

It was the middle of the night when Hermione woke, her bed partner shuffling from his sleep next to her.  “Are you okay? Pain potion?” she said sleepily, squinting in the darkness as she pushed herself up to seated.

 

The moonlit striped through the window, bathing him in soft light. He grumbled as he rolled over, adjusting the quilt over his chest. “Not too bad.” His voice was husky and deep as he inspected the left side of his body that was now only a faint scar. “Look at you, Granger. A little healer in training.” 

 

With a snort, she rose from the bed, still fully dressed, having fallen asleep after the draining healing spells and the night of no sleep. Tying up her ratty hair, she made for the nightstand next to him, plucking the extra pain vial off the surface and handing it to him. “Just to be safe. And don’t you dare think I won’t be talking with Moody about this. You’ll have a scar, one that could have been easily avoided had the rest of the team had a grasp of simple healing spells and a magical first aid kit. They can teach you how to disembowel someone but not how to heal a burn—brilliant.” 

 

Draco drank the potion and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, tugging her closer. “You’re rambling.” 

 

Her lips pursed as she huffed an indignant little breath. “Yes. Well, I do that when I’m experiencing any heightened emotion. And I am feeling incredibly irate at this particular moment in time.” Hermione disentangled herself from Draco’s hold and moved towards the dresser, pulling open the second drawer. She slipped from her denims, toeing them off with ease, and smirked as she grabbed her favorite pair of sweats. 

 

As she rolled them around her hips, she turned with a wicked smirk, watching as his gaze darkened at the DURMSTRANG pressed on the left leg. “You’re doing that just to fuck with me.” 

 

Hermione chuckled, reaching behind her to undo the clasp on her bra and sliding the straps through the sleeves of her tank. “Maybe.” She shrugged, glancing at him over her shoulder as she padded back to her side of the bed. 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Draco said, opening his arm so she could saddle beside him, which she did, splaying a hand on his bare chest and tracing delicate lines over the scars littered across his chest. 

 

“Glad you’re back,” she whispered. “Are you in any pain?” 

 

“Nah, better now. Was a bit tender but the potion helps.” His arm tightened around her and he pressed his lips to her hairline, breathing deeply as she curled against him. 

 

“What happened? You were gone for so long.” Her voice cracked as she remembered the night before and the hours spent staring at an empty lawn just waiting for him. 

 

Draco levied a heavy sigh, his fingers slipping under the waistband of her sweats, resting lightly against her hip. “We were meant to Portkey to a nearby location and then use the Floo to enter and return. It was  _ supposed  _ to be easy. One of the Aurors—I think Baker—was on duty. We got to the Archives and back out, but his replacement showed up early—and he is decidedly  _ not _ with the Order. The grates came down and we were trapped in the Atrium.” 

 

Hermione felt her heart quicken as if she were there, remembering the adrenaline that had coursed through her when she fought the senior Malfoy and the others in the Department of Mysteries just two springs prior.

 

“Death Eaters showed up and we had to fight our way out. Shite was close, too close for my liking. I’ve no idea how, but one of the grates opened and we were all able to get out but the place we’d entered through was closed. We ended up in some nowhere town with an idiot who had an open Floo.”

 

“ _ What _ ?” Hermione balked, lifting up on her elbow to study his face as he continued. 

 

“The town was overrun with Death Eaters, of course, because why wouldn't we get that fucking lucky. As soon as we entered the house we could feel the Dark Magic. Luckily, we were able to stun and tie up the residents—thankfully no kids.” Draco dragged a hand down his tired face, releasing a weighted sigh. “So, yeah. We were all there, in this tiny little house just trying to figure out how to get the fuck out. They worked on the burns and I stole the man's clothing,” he added with a roll of his eyes.

 

There was a long beat of silence and Hermione’s brows fell, her hand gesticulating between them. “ _ And _ ? Are you going to tell the rest?” 

 

Draco chuckled, carding his fingers through his hair, and rested his head back against the pillows. “I was pretty sure I could Apparate, despite the injury, but the wards wouldn’t let us. We could see through the windows that there were some shady fucks walking around and we knew we’d have to bloody run for it. The only issue being—”

 

“You were injured and no one knew the proper spells to heal you!” Hermione chastised, fully aware that it was in no way his fault. 

 

“Right,” he allowed with a sideways smile. “So we waited until the coast was clear and ran like hell for the tree line. Theo nearly had to carry me halfway but as soon as we could, we made the jump. Truthfully, the pain wasn’t all too bad, but it took us two jumps to get here so it worsened as we arrived.”

 

“Draco, your flesh was  _ charred _ . I exhausted myself healing you.” Her eyes rolled severely in her head as she sat up fully, crossing her legs and scowling at him. “It’s all far too dangerous. Did you even get the plans?”

 

A Cheshire grin played on his full lips and it only served to deepen her scowl. “You did it again.” 

 

The space between her brows crinkled. “Did what?”

 

“Called me Draco.” His perfectly pink tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip before he dragged his teeth across it and she flushed. 

 

“Well, it’s quite natural, I should think. I’ve seen you naked, we can call each other by our first names by now.”

 

“ _ Whoa, whoa, whoa. _ ” Draco’s palms lifted in defense. “I’m not going to stop calling you Granger.” 

 

She scoffed, her jaw popping open slightly. “And why on earth not?”

 

His face twisted up in thought as he bobbed his head back and forth. “For one, Granger is a term of endearment—” 

 

“No, it’s my surname.”

 

He continued without pause, “And secondly, Hermione is such a tricky name. All. Those.  _ Syllables. _ ” Pearly white teeth shone in the dim light and without her permission, her lips twisted into a playful pout as she slapped him lightly in the chest. 

 

Draco trapped her wrist, moving quickly until she was on her back as he hovered over her. Something dark and sinful flashed behind his eyes as the quilt fell away and he pressed his naked body against her. 

 

She gasped, her back arching up against her volition as her hands came down on his shoulders. “Absolutely not! You need your rest, you could have  _ died _ .” 

 

“Not even close, Granger,” he purred, bumping the point of his nose into hers. “It’ll take a hell of a lot more than that to get me in the ground. And besides, even if I  _ had _ almost died, the first thing I’d want to do upon my return—” His face dipped lower until his lips were brushing against hers as he spoke. “—Is bury myself between your thighs. I’m almost positive it’s the closest to heaven I’m going to get.” 

 

Without another word, his lips crashed onto hers. Each movement was heated and firm and even though there was a nagging little bit of her brain that told her maybe she ought not to push his injury, there was a much louder part of her that was screaming at the other part to shut up.

 

That part won. 

 

His lips trailed from the corner of her mouth and left a hot trail down her jaw and across her collarbone. Slipping his hand up the hem of her shirt and across the ladder of her ribs, he found the swell of her breast and laved his attentions there. 

 

She tangled her fingers in his hair while his hand slid the strap of her tank top down, revealing her bare breast to the chilly night air. Her nipple pebbled, whether from the cold or his deft attention, and he flicked the tip of his tongue over it as he massaged the other roughly. The thick ridge of his cock pressed against her thigh and she raised her hips off the bed so he could slide her sweats from her hips. 

 

Rising up on his haunches, his hand wrapped around his cock and pumped sinfully a few times before he pulled Viktor’s sweats from her legs.

 

“I’m burning those tomorrow,” he teased, crumpling them in a ball and tossing them in a heap near the door.

 

Laughter bubbled past her lips. “Don’t you dare.” 

 

A delicate snort escaped him before he dipped down to press a kiss to the curve of her knee, then the inside of her thigh, and Hermione squirmed with anticipation as his breath fanned over her soaked knickers. 

 

Back arching off the mattress, Hermione felt ready to burst as she waited for his touch. The flat of his tongue dragged up her covered slit and she keened, her knees tightening around his face. He clucked his tongue in admonishment and Draco's palms wrapped around the back of her thighs, hitching on her hips and tugging her towards the end of the bed. 

 

Sinking to the wooden floor, his palms pressed lightly on her thighs, opening her to him in a way that made her feel wanton and worshipped. She writhed as his teeth skimmed the sensitive skin of her thigh again, purposefully avoiding the area that so desperately needed his affection. 

 

“Draco,” she whined, her back arching off the mattress. One hand slid from her thigh and skimmed the flat of her belly until his palm was filled with her breast, tweaking her stiff nipples as he pressed a light kiss over her slit. “Please,” she begged, and although under most other circumstances she’d be mortified, she was simply too far gone for any emotion that wasn’t carnal and primitive. 

 

“You’re so wet.” His lips brushed against the cotton of her knickers and thankfully—blessedly—his fingers dipped in the side of her knickers and he slipped two fingers in easily, curling until she cried out. 

 

Her hand flew up to her mouth, stifling her wail as Draco smiled against her clit, his tongue drawing lazy, light swirls over her. “Draco,” she breathed. “The charm—the silencing charm—contraceptive, too,” she managed through her panting, her fingers tugging on his sugar-fine locks. 

 

Again, she felt him smirk against her and he mumbled a wandless spell that caused a soft warming over her belly but then he simply returned to what he had been doing prior. “Draco!” she chastised, coming up on her elbows to peer at him nestled between her thighs. “The silencing charm. My wand is just— _ ooooh _ .” 

 

“I don’t care who hears you tonight.” Soft kisses turned to hard flicks as he moved his mouth against her mound with a renewed vigor and her head fell back against the mattress as she cried out his name again and again. Her knees tightened around his ears as her orgasm took her, her body tensed and tight and positively thrumming.

 

Draco stood, again pumping his cock a few times as he stared down at her, still catching her breath as the lingering sensations drifted from her limbs. Reaching down, he gripped her hips, flipping her over and tugging her up on her knees, her forearms still braced on the mattress. He skimmed his tip against her entry as she keened, rocking back against him. 

 

His hand came down swiftly on the flesh of her arse and she let out another pleasured whimper as he drove into her. His pace was brutal and relentless and when she shifted her knees to allow him deeper access, a growl vibrated in the back of his throat and his fingers tangled in her curls, lightly tugging until she was peering over her shoulder at him. 

 

“Fuck,” he grunted as his hips spasmed and he emptied into her. When his thrusts ceased, his hands rested on the dimples on the lower arch of her back and palmed the globes of her arse still pressed against him. He slid from inside her, casting another wandless spell that hastily cleaned them both as she collapsed on her back and he crawled over. 

 

He kissed every inch of her that he could reach as she giggled and wrapped her arms around him. “Should I be concerned at how adept you are at wandless sex magic?” 

 

That earned a bright, genuine laugh against the crook of her neck as his hand skated up her side and found her cheek, his thumb playing with the curve of her cheek. “Sex magic is another beast altogether, love. Those are just handy little tricks I’ve picked up along the way.” 

 

Her eyes narrowed as he pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth. “ _ Riiiiight _ .” 

 

“My cock now twitches only for you, Granger.” He smirked wickedly, nipping at her earlobe and she curled against him as she laughed. 

 

“I liked what you called me before,” she pouted and he pulled back with a furrowed brow to inspect her. 

 

“What did I call you? Nothing awful in the throes of passion, I hope.” His nose wrinkled. 

 

“No.” Her blush spread from her cheeks to her chest instantaneously. “You called me ‘ _ love _ ’. I liked that one.” 

 

The quirk of his lips spread to a full out grin as he kissed her fully, his lips pillowing hers as his hand curled around the back of her neck. “That’ll be an easy one to remember.” 

 

She blinked up at him, hazy lust still painted over his features. “Yeah?”

 

He let out a hollow little scoff and dipped lower, his lips brushing against her ear. “I love you, Granger.” 

 

If a smile could split someone’s face, this would be the one to do it. Hermione’s arms locked around his neck and she kissed him firmly, pulling apart only to whisper against his lips in return, “I love you, too.” 

 

Against her thigh, she felt his cock stiffen again and she balked, drawing back as he grinned maniacally. “What? He’s happy,” he teased, his fingers finding purchase in her sides until she was writhing with unbridled laughter. 

 

XXXXX

 

She woke late the next morning, tangled in a loose sheet and naked as the day she was born. Blinking slowly until her eyes adjusted to the light, she stretched the sleep from her body and sat up, noticing several things all at once. Rubbing her eyes, she realized there was a faint hint of smoke and her bed was, strangely, empty. 

 

In the spot that Draco normally occupied was a pair of neatly folded emerald green joggers, with SLYTHERIN scrawled on one leg and she grinned, plucking the small note from where it laid on top. 

 

_ H-  _

 

_ Couldn’t wake you. Off to Bristol to debrief.  _

 

_ Love you  _

 

_ D.M.  _

 

Hermione buried her face in her hands, grinning like a schoolgirl—which for all intents and purposes, she was still of the right age to be—and unfolded the sweats for further inspection. In the midst of the world crumbling, she’d fallen in love. What a silly thing to do. 

 

The faint scent of smoke lingered near her again and she tilted her chin, searching for the origin. She gasped audibly, her jaw nearly unhinging as she saw the ashy remnants of her Durmstrang sweats where he had tossed them the night before. The laughter that slipped over her tongue was completely unwarranted and she rolled her eyes as she slipped from the bed. 

 

“The prat,” she mumbled to herself with a smile, tugging the joggers on, and tossing the note next to his reading glasses on the end table. As she rounded the corner into the living room, her hands tying her wild curls in a messy knot, she screamed, flattening against the wall with a heaving chest; sitting on the lumpy sofa of Surrey house were Harry and Ron, amused expressions curling over their features. 

 

Ron’s face screwed up in disgust.  “Oof, really Hermione? Slytherin Green?” 

 

“You two scared me half to death!” Hermione rolled her eyes and continued towards the kitchen. “Cereal?” she called over her shoulder, rummaging through the cabinets. 

 

“We ate,” Harry said. “Kreacher’s not a bad cook.” There was a beat of silence as she padded back into the room, resting her bum on the edge of the sofa as she ate. “There’s more than enough room there, Hermione. If you wanted…”

 

A cornflake hit the back of her throat and she coughed violently, using the back of her hand to wipe the milk dribbling down her cheek. Only after she’d regained her composure did she speak again. “I like it here. Thank you, though.” 

 

Ron dragged his hand through his overgrown hair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the tops of his thighs. “Well, when the prat starts driving you crazy, then?” 

 

Her lips pursed as she tried to fight back a smile. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, what are you up to? You don’t normally make visits to Surrey house.”

 

“That’s because it’s rotting,” Harry remarked, his lips pulling back grotesquely. 

 

Pointing her spoon at her friend’s face, she narrowed her gaze. “I’ll assume you mean charming.”

 

The boys shifted on the couch, conversing through the rising and falling of their eyebrows with each other. Both gesturing that the other one should begin, and Hermione let out an impatient sigh as she slammed the bowl down loudly on the coffee table. “Someone just say it.” 

 

Ron leaned back and Harry clicked his jaw as he straightened his spine. “It’s about Godric’s—”

 

“No,” Hermione clipped, snatching up the bowl she had just dropped and storming into the kitchen. 

 

“Hermione,” Harry called after her. “You know we have to. The chances of a Horcrux—hell, of the  _ sword _ being there? There’s no question.”

 

“You’re right. There’s no question.” Hermione again rounded the corner, crossing her arms tersely and jutting one bare foot out. “It can  _ not _ happen, Harry.”

 

Harry was on his feet then with an exaggerated groan, taking heavy, determined steps towards the kitchen, pausing only as the front door pressed open and the two Slytherins stepped through.

 

Draco’s eyes landed first on Hermione, locking onto her sweats and then floating through the rest of the group. “Hello, Potty. Weasel. Didn’t realize we were expecting you.” 

 

Along with a strong gust of wind through the open front door, a strangled tension swept into the room. Theo coughed into the crook of his arm, stepping past Malfoy with a curious quirk of his brow in Hermione’s direction. 

 

“Perfect. Just who I wanted to see,” Harry said cheerfully but there was no trace of animosity, no underlying sarcasm. He turned to address Draco fully. “You handle strategy, right?”

 

Draco, as well as Theo and Hermione, eyes blew wide. “Uh, yes? What of it?” 

 

“That’s brilliant because, as it is, we’re in need of a strategy.” 

 

“ _ Harry _ !” Hermione admonished, stepping forward from the shadows of the kitchen. “I told you! This is a fools mission.”

 

Draco made a strangled grunting noise, his eyes rolling. “Who better to take it on than the Golden Twat-heads, then?” 

 

Ron snorted, moving across the room to stand next to Harry and Hermione. “They call us the Golden Trio.” 

 

Hermione huffed, as if that were important right now. “Listen, Godric’s Hollow is not realistic for us right now. We know absolutely nothing about the layout, about the wizarding community that lives there now. It could be similar to where the field teams ended up, they could be supporters of You-Know-Who! Hell, he could  _ be _ there.” 

 

Lifting his glasses from his face, Harry dragged a tired hand over his features. “I know, Hermione. Trust me—I’m fully aware of the consequences of  _ me _ meeting with  _ Him _ right now. But if there’s a chance? We’ve got to go. This doesn’t end without those very important pieces. Us living like this is not sustainable; we’ve got to start making moves. And Godric’s Hollow is the next one, I know it. It’s where I was born; it’s where he died. There are answers there.” His emerald eyes remained locked on hers as her brilliant mind tried to formulate her next argument. Their trance was broken by the sound of wood scraping against cheap tile. 

 

Draco sat, resting his hands on the table for a moment before Theo joined him, followed by Ron. Hermione and Harry stood, shoulders square, and with every fiber of being she tried to ignore the raging inky feeling spreading through her at the thought of charging into Godric’s Hollow.

 

“You’re with us, ‘Mione?” Ron asked, his fiery brows pinching together. 

 

Her gaze floated around the room and with a resigned sigh, she nodded, taking the final seat and conjuring another chair for Harry. “Til death, apparently. Besides, let you four plan it and I’ll be writing four eulogies before this is all said and done.” 

 

XXXXX

 

**A/N: I loved knowing you guys were waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. Hope you’re not disappointed Draco is alive and very well. Fun stuff coming up so hopefully my muse continues to cooperate. Thanks as always for reading!**

 

**Your reviews leave me grinning like a fool.**

 

**Alpha Love: MCal**

**Beta Babe: InDreams**

 

**If you aren’t sick of me saying it yet, run and catch up on InDreams Boardwalk. My dudes… it’s fucking gooooood. DRACO IN AVIATORS.**

  
  



	14. Chapter Fourteen

 

 

 

 

 

The Portkey dropped them just outside Godric's Hollow. Blanketed in darkness, the town was easily visible on the horizon just over the river, ambient and twinkling light creating a hazy glow.

The last two weeks had been spent obsessively learning about this small Wizarding community. Hermione could recite every notable resident for the last two hundred years, as well as tell you that Alderton Lane met Toothill at a forty-five-degree angle; which, if you took either road, would drop you kitty-corner to the Potter home.

Despite never having set foot in this town before, Hermione felt she knew it by heart: every brick, every shop, every alley— _every exit_. Due to its Wizarding history, Muggles were easily repelled and Apparition should be available at any given place during their mission.

Team One, led by Remus, was headed for the east side of the village; they were to first search Dumbledore's childhood home and then the surrounding Craftsman District. Team Two, led by Moody, was assigned the centermost part of town, their final destination being the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor himself.

Both locations seemed unlikely to house a hidden Horcrux but were very plausible places to hide the sword of Gryffindor. Those teams had been dispatched closer to the east side of town and were to take Three Troll Bridge into town before splitting.

Just west, at the mouth of Sawbridge Bridge, Hermione, Ron, and Harry gathered, O'Connor, Kingsley, and Trueman flanking them. Their small team had their eyes set on the Potter Home. Voldemort murdered two people the last time he'd been there; the possibility that he had created a Horcrux, whether on purpose or by accident, seemed likely, and it may have still been hidden at the Potters'.

The chill in the air bit through their winter cloaks as Hermione and her friends advanced as one, drawing the hoods of their winter cloaks up to shield their faces. She managed one glance to the left, peering into the darkness for a trace of the other teams—of Draco.

"Okay," Trueman spoke, the deep lines etched on his face hardening his glare. "Keep the formations tight and watch each other's sixes. This is no time for sloppy wand work or a missed attack."

O'Connor spoke next, taking a small step forward. "Be diligent in your casts; every curse is to be identified. If you don't know—ask. We're here to help."

There was a beat of silence as Hermione searched Harry's features."Ready?" Harry asked quietly and Hermione gulped, nodding from the safety of her cloak.

They moved quietly in the small space between the alley, their wands lit with curse revealing charms as they scanned the ground for them. The area closer to a Horcrux would be littered with curses, so as long as they were free of them, it was easily presumed that they weren't close to any answers.

"Did you see that?" Harry hissed, halting in his movements and letting the others slam into his back. Before anyone could protest, he tore in the opposite direction. Ron followed him without hesitation while Hermione stood dumbfounded, tossing her hands in the air. Soon, they all crept down the side alley after him, emerging into a stone clearing with a looming statue in the center.

Something about the statue had a definitive magical quality to it. Shimmering in the soft snowfall, when Hermione stopped before it, her breath hitched. What had at first appeared to be a steepled abstract form towering over them, was now an incredible depiction of a young man, wand raised up towards the heaven. A beautiful young woman was tucked into his side, her hair swept up in a flurry of wind around the baby in her arms, and her hand curled around the throat of a long snake, its tail buried deep in a skull at their feet.

"It's—" Harry's words caught and even in the dim light, Hermione noticed the quivering of his jaw. "It's us."

Reaching for his hand, Hermione stood shoulder to shoulder with her very best friend, resting her temple on his shoulder as she stared up through the dusting of snowflakes. The elegant curve of Lily's jaw, the determined set of eyes behind James' glasses, the way they huddled together—it was stunning.

Kingsley broke the silence, his thickly accented voice tight from behind them. "It was built about a year after they passed. It's charmed only to appear when wizards or witches approach as long as no Muggles are nearby." With a flick of his wand, the snow was swept from the front of the statue and the word 'POTTER' etched proudly in the stone.

A long moment passed, too long if Hermione was being honest, but it didn't quite feel like the right moment to say something and so she waited. Waited for the long exhale that signaled Harry was ready to move on.

Harry finally turned, his chin tucked neatly into his chest and she gave his fingers a squeeze. "We'll come back," she promised, tugging her hood up and moving again for the alley.

As they rounded the shops, the telltale scent of magic lingered in the air. Dark and light pulsed together as the sounds of a duel vibrated off the cobblestone and back at them.

"Looks like we aren't alone in Godric's Hollow tonight," O'Connor said, his voice tight from the depths of his cloak. "Kingsley, Trueman—the two of you will check in with Team Two. We'll head to the Potter home and sweep it, and meet you there in fifteen. Good?"

Kingsley and Trueman nodded, ducking back across the square while the remaining four turned abruptly away from the of the fray behind them. Hermione swallowed the bile that her adrenaline was pumping into the back of her throat, and ran as fast as her feet would carry her towards the end of the street.

They halted outside the rickety gate of the Potter address, staring at a blank block of land, and even Hermione could not quell the emotion that pressed against her skin at arriving at the Potter home for the first time. All these years later, and still, dark magic swarmed, billowing over the property, tangible and bitter on her tongue.

Several things happened quickly: O'Connor caught his wand between his teeth as he reached back to secure his long auburn hair into a messy knot. Hermione twisted her wand, ready to cast a revealing charm, and Harry and Ron moved forward without a second thought, past an invisible line as they reached for the broken gate. The air filled with a shrill, howling shriek and Hermione's hands pressed to her ears as the ruined Potter home came starkly into view.

O'Connor's hands twisted in Harry's robes as he clutched his wand and yanked him back. "You fucking fool," he growled, slicing his wand through the air to reveal an intricate curse along with a charm to conceal the property from a distance. " _Caterwaul_. Hope you're ready for a fight." They all watched in slow horror as lights flicked on in the surrounding houses.

In a fluid, almost enviable, movement, O'Connor's hand twisted in the air as he called his Patronus, a curious little fox with a folded ear and a tilted chin. "Immediate backup to the Potter home. Code Black." The ethereal little fox split into three identical forms as it raced along the blacktop.

Faint pops of Apparition could be heard all around them, one by one by one. O'Connor growled under his breath, "I fucking hate kids."

"That's not helpful!" Hermione cried, her head whipping back and forth.

"Harry and Hermione, get inside," O'Connor commanded, his eyes locking on a slow movement at the end of the lane. "Search that fucking house as fast as you can and get back here." As he spoke, a sinfully slow icy chill fell over them: a ward. "And now we can't fucking Apparate. Fucking hell. _GO_!"

Hermione didn't wait; she pushed past the invisible line, revealing a crumbling home covered in thick ivy, the side of the second floor blown wide open. She felt Harry falter at her side, desperately wanting to take a moment, but she didn't wait for him. Not this time. She had two stories and several rooms to sweep and she was depending on the gut feeling of a boy who had just pushed towards the most infamous home in Godric's Hollow without casting a single Revealing Charm.

Her wand bloomed to life as she swept every surface she came in contact with. The sitting and dining rooms, the front sitting area, and the kitchen… nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

Harry's eyes glazed over as he climbed the stairs, his eyes catching on a stain of dark magic on the wall at the landing.

"Do you feel something?" Her wand lit the way, flaring to life to illuminate the stain he stared at, and outside she heard the first fires of magic. She could only pray that the sounds she heard were from the Order, but without being able to Apparate, she knew there was no way they'd have made it so quickly. "We've got to finish, Harry. They need us out there."

She skidded to a stop outside of a small room; its walls were covered with pale blue wallpaper boasting magicked hippogriffs that soared in lazy loops and swirls. There was a crib in the corner, white and ornate, a mobile hanging overhead with snowy owls in various forms of flight. But what made her jaw drop was the missing back wall, baring itself to the backyard.

Allowing herself a single moment, she sucked in a sobering breath. Harry joined her, staring at the spot where his young mother had died to protect him.

"Are you okay?" she breathed, flinching away from a guttural scream coming from outside.

He took a breath, his lids heavy and his jaw set. "No," he clipped. "This was a mistake. Nothing's fucking here."

Drawing a heavy breath through her nose, Hermione nodded once, the grip on her wand tightening. "Okay. Let's go." Jogging down the hall, she stopped at the top of the stairs when Harry stayed in his spot. "I know, Harry. I know this is impossible. I promise we'll come back and give this place the time it deserves, but our friends could be dying out there. They need us."

Something about her words shook him into awareness and he blinked hard a few times before turning towards her. His jaw clenched and suddenly, they were tearing down the stairs, ripping open the front door.

Pausing, her heart clenched painfully in her chest. One more moment, that's all she needed. Just long enough to make sense of the sheer number of masked fighters that had appeared on the corner of Sawbridge and Church Lane street. Outside the front gate, Ron and O'Connor stood back to back, magic pouring from their wands, and at the sight of Ron narrowly getting his Protego up in time, she and Harry burst into action.

Harry leapt over the short fence as Hermione shoved through O'Connor and Ron, their backs no longer pressed together as she locked eyes on the first Death Eater. His mask was bronzed and ornate, ridges dragging through the metal like scars.

" _Stupefy_!" Hermione cast and her spell was quickly tossed to the side by one flick of her opponent's wrist. More people swarmed the fray as Order members flooded the lane and a few people, still tucked neatly in their homes, peeked out from behind their curtains.

"Granger!" O'Connor growled. "I know I did not hear you just cast a fucking _Stupefy_ right now! _Secare_!" The Death Eater he was matched up against let out a cry as his arm was slit open and the curse was immediately followed by a powerful _Bombarda_ that sent him hurling into two of his comrades.

Hermione felt panic claw at her chest as her eyes flickered around the fight.

" _Protego_!" O'Connor shouted, sending a large dome shield up over the three of them. Spell after spell crashed against its surface. "Head out of ye' arse, Granger!"

With a nod, Hermione assumed her position, firing an _Incarcerous_ through his shield before the dome of protection quickly dropped, O'Connor's wand shot out a quick succession of bright red bursts that pelted off a Death Eater's invisible barrier.

Thick ropes shot out the tip of her wand and tightened around the arms of the nameless Death Eater, and she stepped away from their formation, scanning the area. Luna and Neville were systematically taking someone down, Neville holding a strong protective barrier as Luna elegantly cast a barrage of curses a few feet away.

To her left, Moody, Kingsley, and Trueman created a semi-circle around Harry who was attempting to fire over their shoulders. A jet of magic whizzed past her, scorching the tip of her ear, and she turned wildly, a protective rage swelling in her as she swung her wand from side to side with a succession of stunners meant to tire her opponent.

It was obvious by the way he fought he was young, unseasoned at the very least. His shoulders were narrow, his casts too wide and imprecise, and in a moment of panic, he ducked down the side of the house and towards the sparse woods in the back.

Hermione shot another stunner, unwilling to waste her magic until she was in a proper fight and he turned, wielding his wand in an overly exaggerated manner. He protected his upper right first, always returning his wand there, and Hermione's mind stitched together an attack. With a stinging jinx towards his left ankle, he cried out and she took a few more forceful steps towards him, causing him to tumble backward, scrambling deeper into the forest.

As she approached him, deflecting a single strobe of crimson magic aimed at her chest, he pulled his mask free, sucking in terrified, shallow breaths that materialized in clouds of smoke past his lips. Merlin, he was a kid. Too young. Her heart seized in her ribs and when she raised her wand towards him, a tear slipped down his cheek. "Fuck," she cursed. She just—she couldn't do it.

Fuck what O'Connor had said.

" _Incarcerous_!" As the rope coiled around his middle, he began to full out sob, broken cries that pained her. Hermione raised her wand, ready to stun him, when a strong arm wound around her throat, tightening until she felt her airways closing. In a blind panic, she clawed at the covered arm, ripping at the thick fabric as her toes lifted off the ground.

"Fucking Mudblood." The Death Eater's voice was gravelly and deep and he pulled her roughly to the side so he could look down at the kid wrapped in binds at their feet. "Merlin, Travis. Seriously? Bested by this Mudblood bitch? _Finite_!"

The hold on her throat lightened enough that a small amount of air slipped into her lungs but still she continued to thrash in his hold. "You are going to make the big guy _very_ happy, little girl."

As she fought his grip, she locked eyes with Draco across the lane, slicing down a faceless Death Eater as he worked his way towards her. His face was etched in terror and she could only imagine the look was mirrored on her own. Fluttering her eyes closed, she attempted to calm the wild rage swirling inside her, focusing on that spot in her stomach where Draco had splayed his fingers and taught her to kill.

She let her body fall limp, the muscle of his forearm pressing into her throat, but her plan worked. Assuming she'd passed out, he released his hold enough that she could move. Her lips curled back in a growl and she jammed her wandtip into the soft spot on his neck, sending a jolt into him that caused him to stutter back.

The young boy that had been bound at their feet scrambled up and away and she quickly knocked him with a _Bombarda_ that hurled him into a tree where he lay unconscious. The masked Death Eater hunched, just barely, and Hermione took the opportunity to drive the point of her elbow into the back of his neck. His hands flew up to where she'd struck and she kicked the back of his knee with her heel, driving him to his knees.

"You _bitch_!" Ripping the mask from his face, he whipped around wand first in a wild attempt at casting. With her wand wrapped firmly in her hand, she clipped him in the corner of the jaw, her blow coming down on him and knocking him senseless for a moment, his wand dropping to the snow.

Hermione used the heel of her boot to kick it out his reach and with a swirl of her wand, tied his wrists in front of him. When she had a moment to focus on his face, her gaze darkened.

Goyle.

"Fuck," she hissed, jamming her palms into her eyes for a moment. Trueman's voice sounded in her ears. _Crack him in the skull next time_. She hadn't, not when fighting young Travis, and she wasn't sure she had it in her now.

"Granger!" Draco shouted and her gaze was momentarily deterred as she searched the snowy landscape for him. Both he and Theo were pushing through and behind them, she noticed people had left their houses, their wands drawn as they cast curses and hexes in their bathrobes and pyjamas.

Relief flooded through her as she realized that not only did her friends seem to be generally okay, Draco and Theo were alive and running towards her.

A hard blunt force hit her in the side as Goyle tackled her to the ground and jabbed his elbow into her belly. Her wand hand loosened for the briefest of moments and Goyle grabbed it, slicing through his confines and jabbing it into her throat, a sick, crooked smile pulling at his features.

His hand wrenched in her curls as both Theo and Draco stopped a few feet away, their chests heaving out small clouds of harsh breaths. "Greg," Theo said quietly. "Don't do this."

Goyle's stubby fingers knotted deeper in her loose curls and he dragged them both to their feet, pulling her flush along his soft body. "Hello, mate. _Malfoy_ ," he nodded, pressing his temple into Hermione's hair and inhaling deeply. "This Mudblood doesn't smell as filthy as the rest, I'll give her that. We are gonna have fun with you back in camp, you bitch." Hermione whimpered as she struggled against the ripping of her hair; she found she was more than willing to part with a hefty chunk of it as long as she was away from Goyle and his rancid breath.

"Let her go, Goyle." Draco's eyes were narrowed, his wand tight at his side as he stared right past her and into Goyle's snarling grin. "It's the one warning you're going to get."

Barking out a laugh, Goyle released his hold on her hair only to snake it around her middle, his hand sliding along her belly in a way that made her stomach lurch. "I knew you always had a thing for her, Malfoy. I didn't think you'd actually be able to stomach fucking her though. But you've surprised me a lot these days— _blood traitor_."

"Goyle, you should listen to Malfoy," Theo said, his voice steady but the tendons of his neck and wand arm were strained tight, and Hermione watched as he took a small step to the side.

"Go on, then. Take me down. Slice through her pretty little body to get to me, you fucking prick." A shiver paired with a sob slipped out of her when his stubby wet tongue dragged across her neck. "Maybe I'll send her back to you after we've broken her beyond repair. You can deal with her corpse."

Draco's lips curled back and with a quick thrust of his wand, he sent a stinging jinx directly for the pair of them; part of it clipped her shoulder and she cried out as magic burned her.

Goyle unceremoniously dropped Hermione into the snow. A flurry of activity whirled around her and as adrenaline pumped generously through her system, she missed nothing. Both Draco and Goyle's wands slashed through the air as Theo lunged in her direction. She reached for him, their hands clasping as he yanked her towards him and they both crashed back into the earth, Hermione landing in an ungraceful heap on Theo's chest.

Draco was able to get his shield up as his own curse cut open Goyle's thigh, blood pouring onto the trampled snow. With a guttural scream, Goyle's enraged gaze fell on Hermione. " _Crucio_!"

Theo rolled them, his body weight pressing her down into the wet snow as he spasmed and thrashed on top of her, bearing the weight of the curse as she wept. Truly, there was nothing worse than watching his eyes roll back in his head in unimaginable pain.

" _Secare_!"

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

Hermione's stomach lurched, unable to decipher who said what and which curse had landed first, but she felt warm liquid drip over her torso as Theo's seizures ended and his body fell heavy on top of her as he lost consciousness.

"Fuck! Theo?" she sobbed, rolling him and crouching over him as the olive undertones of his skin drained away. Blood pooled around him, staining the snow, and she let out a sob.

"Goddamnit!" Malfoy crashed into the space next to them, falling to his knees as he slapped Theo lightly in the face.

"FALL BACK!" A loud, foreign voice echoed through the lane, just as the Potter home burst into flames in front of them, and the remaining Death Eaters lifted through the air. _They'd won_.

It didn't feel like it.

"Oh my god," Hermione choked, unable to tear her eyes from the wildfire reaching up towards the heavens and engulfing the remains of Harry's childhood. She'd promised—she'd promised Harry they'd come back.

"Nott! C'mon, mate. _Nott_!" Malfoy's voice betrayed his normal stoic facade as it cracked and faded, pulling her attention back to the boys next to her.

"Draco, turn him. _Accio wand_!"

Pushing him gently to his side, Hermione cast a _Diffindo_ to slice through the remaining layers of his clothing, and found a giant, angry red gash ruining his lean back. A gash that had been meant for her.

Her lids fluttered closed as she lifted her hands, both trembling, and muttered a stasis charm and a quick cast to stop the bleeding. "We've got to get him back to a safe house— _now_. He needs way more than we can do in the field."

Malfoy nodded, turning over his shoulder at the fight that had since dissipated and the flames left in its wake. His eyes clenched shut and with a quick pop, he Disapparated, only to appear a few feet away and rush back to their side. "Wards are down, take him. I'll meet you at Surrey house."

"C—Can you make sure everyone made it? I'll tend to him until you get there?"

Malfoy managed a final look down at his friend and he nodded once. Wrapping his fingers around the back of her throat, he pressed a firm kiss to her forehead and then rushed back towards their lingering teammates.

She watched him go for a moment before the reality of the moment set in and she shook her head free of the encroaching distractions. "It's okay, Theo," she mumbled. "You're going to be alright. I promise." Grabbing hold of his wrist, she placed Surrey house squarely in her mind and disappeared in a pillar of billowing magic.

XXXXX

**Map GODDESS: Witches Britches. WTF how are you awesome. I needed a little something to help me visualize this chapter and how the teams would move through GH. This girl DELIVERED and then some. My jaw _unhinged_ when she sent this masterpiece. **

**Alpha Love:** MCal **\- you are wonderful and I don't deserve all your love and affection!**

 **Beta Babe: InDreams- I know I keep saying it. BUT DRACO IS TAN AND WEARS AVIATORS AND SURFS IN BOARDWALK!** Reeeead **it! She's a genius.**

**Would love to know your thoughts on the chapter! Hopefully back in a few days with the aftermath of this mess.**

 

****


	15. Chapter 15

They landed in the dirt with a soft thud, and when she looked down, Theo’s eyes were wrenched wide with horror, his mouth falling open as a pained sob echoed through the forest. 

 

“ _ Shit-shit-shit-shit. _ ” Painfully, Hermione realised her error; the Apparition had most likely destroyed the Stasis Charm, his pain now fresh and raw as he thrashed in the snow. “ _ Mobilicorpus _ .” Winding his twisting body through the house was tricky, and while she was careful not to nick him on any furniture or corners of the wall, he was unable to stop fighting as fresh blood trickled onto the wood floors. 

With a sharp veer for his bedroom, she set him on the unused bed and pulled off the remaining bits of tattered clothing covering his torso. She attempted to roll him, but the tremors from the  _ Crucio _ mixed with the pain from the cutting curse wracked his body, rendering any attempts at moving him useless. “I’m sorry, Theo,” she whispered even as her words were drowned out by his wailing. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” She slipped her wand into place and hit him with a quick but hard stunner, his body falling quickly limp. 

Now, far more easily maneuvered, Hermione pressed her hands onto his shoulder to gently rotate him but her eyes caught on the crimson staining her hands and forearms. Stomach roiling, her gaze drifted to her shirt, covered in Theo's fresh blood, and a broken breath pushed past her lips. Bringing the crook of her arm up to shield her face, she allowed herself a single moment to fall apart. 

Just one sobering breath later and she blinked herself back into the moment, continuing to roll him on the mattress. “ _ Accio Dittany _ !” A small vial with a dropper floated into the room moments later and she snatched it deftly, pulling out the top and dripping it into the deepest parts of his wound. His muscles continued twitching, but he was far more compliant to work with while under her spell.

Once the muscle had been mostly pulled back together, she used her wand to cast a suturing charm. As his skin wove together under the careful tutelage of her wandtip, she tried her best to ignore the bile threatening to spill over her tongue. Hermione worked slowly, methodically, careful to keep her stitches close, and tried to remember the small satchel she made with her mother as a child. In, out, over. In, out, over. 

It was a sizable injury, nearly ripping his back in half diagonally, and although the physical cut would be gone in a matter of days under magical healing, the nerve damage would be painful for some time; he may still need a bit of physical therapy. 

As she tidied up the last of her stitches, nearly forty-five minutes later, she pushed back from her seat to examine the work. It wasn’t the best out there, Poppy Pomfrey would have done it in a quarter of the time and much neater, but she’d done it. 

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Hermione summoned a healing salve and some bandages and took a moment to breathe as they filtered into the room. Her hesitation in the field could have cost her her life today, could have cost Theo’s—hell, it almost had. 

With a heavy sigh, she twisted the lid off the salve and dipped her fingers in the cool ivory cream, scooping out a generous amount and pressing it at the mouth of Theo’s injury. Fingers tentative and hesitant, she traced over his sutures, careful not to irritate them. Her eyes traveled the length of his back, the strips of muscle that lead towards his trousers, and her eyes fluttered closed, taking a brief respite just to be thankful he was okay. 

She finished wrapping him in gauze, sealing it with a sticking charm, and then covering him with a quilt before she quietly left the room. Her nerves still hadn’t fully calmed as the sun made its way up and over the cliff, and sleep wasn’t likely, surely not until she’d gotten the all-clear from Malfoy on how the other teams had fared. 

Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she made her way to the front porch, drinking in the splendor of the sunrise as snow made a lazy fall towards the earth. The same snow that had fallen over Godric’s Hollow now covered the pine needled floor here in Surrey, catching in her curls and lashes. Violent flashes of the past few hours threatened to fill her vision and Hermione clenched her eyelids shut, physically trying to force them away. 

There were things she could manage, busywork and distractions she could do in the meantime until she could curl around Draco and steal a few hours of sleep.

 Sliding her wand from where she’d tucked it in her pocket, she envisioned that Christmas morning back at home when the power had gone out. She’d been eleven, not yet aware of the magic in her soul but curiously enough, she’d remained warm, even as the temperature of the house dropped. Her parents had noticed it too as she curled in their lap and her magic warmed all three of them. Her first bout of accidental magic had been peaceful and lovely and shared with her parents.  Flourishing her wand through the air, she attempted to call forth her Patronus, but the magic sputtered into a small wisp before fading. 

With a groan for her otter’s ill timing, she tried again. Memory after memory spun behind her eyes, but it was a devilish smirk, paired with a set of storm cloud grey eyes, that sparked the magic in her chest. A smile stretched her lips as she tried again, and an ethereal little otter, perched on its hind legs, stared curiously at her when she opened her eyes. 

Hermione smiled fondly at her Patronus, lifting her arm to it as it scurried up her arm and twisted around her playfully. “Tell Poppy: Theo could use your attention when the other serious injuries have been tended to. He’s stabilised for now but I don’t think travel is wise. We're at Surrey house.” With a hard flick of her wrist over the horizon, her otter hopped joyfully off, tumbling through the air until it vanished from sight. 

After some time, a familiar  _ pop _ sounded in the forest and Hermione let out a relieved breath, her eyes immediately catching on Draco as he crossed the lawn. There was something about the hunch of his shoulders, or maybe in the way his hands were jammed deep in his pockets, but an ill feeling sank in her belly. 

He hopped lightly up the stairs and wasted no time in wrapping her in a fierce hug, brushing his lips along her forehead. Hermione melted into his touch, letting her face rest along his chest as a few wayward tears slid down her icy cheeks. 

“How’s Theo?” His voice was muffled in her curls. 

“He should be okay. I’ve patched him up and sent for Madam Pomfrey, but he’s resting for now. I stunned him though...” she admitted sheepishly and he laughed loudly, his chest rumbling under her cheek. 

“I’m sure he’ll thank you for that. Aren’t you cold out here?”

Hermione tipped her head back so she could stare up at him and she shook her head, pressing herself closer to him to steal a bit of his warmth. “No, I quite like the snow.” 

Draco’s lips lifted on one side and he shifted her in his arms so her back was pressed against his chest and he could rest his chin on the top of her curls as they watched the snow fall together. 

“Christmas will be here soon,” Hermione noted quietly, her mind chasing memories of Christmases past. Happy memories of the Burrow and her own home, both of which were not safe to return to this year. “Maybe we’ll get a tree. String some lights up?” 

His arms tightened around her, and she could feel the unspoken words hanging between them moments before he spoke them. She supposed she knew something was horribly wrong from the moment Draco arrived. “ _ Granger _ —” 

“Don’t. Don’t say it—” Hermione was sure that her very fragile well-being would be rocked by finding out someone had died. Vivid flashes of her friends’ smiling faces played on a loop behind her lids and no matter how hard she forced them out, they wouldn’t stop. Seamus laughing over a pint. Luna with those ridiculous glasses to stare at Wrackspurts and other such nonsense. Ginny—laughing brightly on the makeshift Quidditch pitch. Thankfully her mind protected her enough not to venture towards Harry and Ron—they were safe. They had to be. 

“It’s going to be okay—we’ll… we’ll get them back. I swear it.” Draco’s voice was strong and reassuring but it didn’t stop the broken little breath that slipped past her tongue. 

Disentangling herself from his embrace she made for the front door and upon stepping inside her gaze fell on the chalkboard in the corner. Hot pressure built at her sinuses as tears began to slip freely down her cheeks. 

******M.I.A.**

L. Lovegood

F. Weasley

L. Brown

 

**K.I.A.**

C.Mclaggen

 

Hermione stared for a long time at the names listed on the chalkboard, torn between being grateful that no other name was listed under Cormac’s, and being devastated to see her friends’ names listed at all. As long as they were under their current column, they were known to be alive. She’d get them back. 

XXXXX

Upon stepping into Grimmauld Place, Hermione rushed through the crowds of people and wrapped her arms around anyone she could find, grateful just to feel the warmth of their bodies under her touch. Harry and Ron squeezed her fiercely and when she pulled back she noticed the black eye gracing Ron’s face and her lips pursed. 

“‘Ey, don’t give me that look, Hermione. You ought to see the other guy—” His joke was teasing, but there was something in the twinge at the corner of his mouth that made her heart sink painfully. She wondered how many of her friends had been forced into killing within the last twenty-four hours, how many of her friends no longer stood here as children, but adults with blood staining their hands. 

Her eyes caught on Neville and the hardness of his expression surprised her. Hermione wasn’t sure what she expected, maybe fear or remorse, unbearable sadness… but, no. Neville Longbottom looked absolutely fucking livid. 

She tried to push past her friends to console him but Ron’s firm hand at her elbow stayed her. “Maybe later, Hermione. He’s—” Ron’s gaze travelled over to Neville and his brow wrinkled in thought. “Just, maybe later? Yeah?” 

Any other time she might have said ‘Bugger that,’ and marched up to Neville, wrapping her arms around him and telling him all the reassuring things she could think of, but there was something about the set of his jaw and the dread in the room that gave her reason to take her friend’s advice. She nodded once and turned to tuck herself between her friends in the increasingly crowded dining room of Grimmauld Place. 

After a few long minutes filled with ambient chatter and hushed voices, Remus, Kingsley, and Moody shuffled in, the former with his face downturned in sadness, the latter with a fierce glare trained on the fighters, and the remaining, somewhere in between. 

“It’s been a long night,” Moody barked, his features pinched tightly and a grumble curling his lips upwards. Remus laid a soft hand on his friend's shoulder and Hermione noticed the tension dissipate, almost as if Moody’s default mood was crabby, even if he didn’t mean it. “As far as I’ve been briefed, we’ve recovered no Horcruxes and the Sword of Gryffindor still remains at large. Is that correct?” 

He was answered by a resounding quiet in the cramped dining room, and even though it was as Hermione suspected, it still stung. Her fingers threaded through Harry’s, squeezing his hand in a quiet reassurance. As much as their losses were felt throughout the group, Hermione knew that it was Harry who carried them most of all. He felt it was on him to end this, and in many ways it was, but getting him to that final moment was a shared fight, one he shouldn’t shoulder alone. 

“Right,” Moody said, his voice gruff as his lips folded in. “Teams, brush up on your offensive and defensive tactics. We won’t be wasting any time on reconnaissance and extractions. Be prepared to leave at any time and your team leaders, Remus and Kingsley, will be in touch. Do not venture from the safe houses.  _ NO DRINKING _ ! Be prepared. Constant vigilance.” His instructions tumbled out one after another and Hermione’s eyes tightened as she listened, uncharacteristically struggling to comprehend what was so plainly being explained to her. 

“Teams three and four, elect your own team leaders,” Kingsley announced. “They’ll be staying behind now for planning along with—” Kingsley’s eyes travelled the room and landed on Draco near the door, and he pointed his forefinger in his direction. “ _ You _ , Malfoy. Where’s Nott?”

“Injured in battle. Should be out for a while and it wasn’t best for him to travel so soon.” 

The three at the head of the room shared a quiet nod and Remus spoke next. “Draco, you’ll be part of the strategy meeting, stay close. The rest of you are dismissed.” 

The room broke into a quiet shuffle and Hermione let out a harsh breath as she studied her friends filing through the doorway. “ _ What _ ? That’s it? Our friends are missing—” 

Ron’s jaw steeled and she realized it was more than just friends for him, it was his brother. Her gaze travelled to George, who was staring out the window with a tight pull to his features, and a new wave of guilt washed over her. Had it not been for Draco and Theo, she’d be dead. She was lucky to be standing there at all. 

“Meet us upstairs, Hermione,” Harry said quietly. “We’ve got to talk about the locket.” Something serious flashed behind his mossy green eyes and Hermione nodded, watching them disappear through the thinning crowd. 

Draco slid towards her, catching her fingers with his and dragging his thumb across her knuckles lightly. “You okay?”

Hermione huffed out a quiet breath and shrugged sadly. “No.” 

His lips quirked up in a knowing, albeit sad, smile and he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. “Back to Surrey house?” His pale brows lifted on his forehead and she shook her head in response. 

“Not yet. Harry and Ron need to talk to me about something but I’ll meet you back there. I’ll check on Theo, first.” 

Draco chuckled. “Stun him again if you need too, yeah?”

“Sure, sure,” she said with a smile. “Whatever you say.” 

“I like the sound of  _ that _ .” His fingers pinched at the extra flesh on her hips and she let out a quiet laugh before slipping away from him with a small wave over her shoulder. 

Once upstairs, the energy shifted. In the blink of an eye, the three of them were the same youthful, nearly innocent, kids they’d been a year prior; not yet touched by the stain of loss, making plans in the cover of darkness over a bowl of snacks and a quiet fire. 

“I guess I just don’t understand the rush,” Ron said, running his hands through his hair with a sharp huff. “I mean, I get that we need to get the damn thing, but maybe we should wait. Fred’s missing, Luna and Lav too… we have to take that into account.”

“The  _ rush _ ,” Hermione emphasized as she shifted in her seat, “is that the Wizengamot is finishing up for the year. They don’t take cases past the middle of December and that’s our best chance at Umbridge for at least a month.” 

“And what if we have to wait a month?” Ron shrugged and Hermione genuinely considered it. There were many moving pieces currently, and maybe putting this particular hazardous mission on hold for a few weeks wasn’t the  _ worst _ idea. 

Harry spoke next, his brows falling low behind his glasses. “What if Voldemort takes back the locket? What if she puts it in her vault? Or fuck, loses it? There are things that can go wrong, and putting it off longer gives a greater chance of those things happening. We know where it is and we have to strike while we have the right information.”

“So we storm the Ministry of bleeding Magic?” Ron scoffed, leaning back and catching himself on his elbows with a smug pull to his features. “We’ll be killed or imprisoned upon arrival. Remember, mate? Undesirable numbers One, Two and Three here.” 

“That’s not practical.” Hermione’s brows knitted tightly together as she thought, resting her cheek in her palm. “We’ve got to keep this mission tight, just the three of us. Maybe polyjuice?”

Harry’s gaze flickered and he chewed on his cheek as he thought. “If we’re found, or if for some reason we are there too long—we’re fucked. The entire government is overrun and Death Eaters will fill the Atrium faster than we know what to do with it. We’ve fought our way out of the belly of the Ministry before and it’s no easy task.”

An idea sparked in Hermione’s mind and she jumped to her feet, eyes wild as she pulled on the tendrils of a thought in an attempt to weave it together. “We need a distraction,” she said finally. “Something big enough that will keep the Death Eaters occupied. If our Aurors can keep their department out of the loop for just a little while, we may be able to sneak in and out before anyone of importance has been tipped off.” 

“What kind of distraction would keep an entire army occupied while we infiltrate the Ministry of Magic?” Ron asked, his tone thick with disbelief. 

Suddenly the layers of her thoughts stitched together and she tore from the room, shouting behind her for them to follow. Her feet were heavy on the stairs as she pushed into the dining room where all the team leads and Draco sat, worry etched on their features. 

She skidded to a stop, panting as Harry and Ron followed in moments later. “Where are they?” 

Moody opened his mouth to object but Draco spoke first, “Best bet is Malfoy Manor.” This earned a sharp glare of admonishment from Moody but Draco threw her a sly wink in response. 

Hermione flinched; Malfoy Manor was less than desirable. “I have an idea.”

The witches and wizards at the table shared a look, but it was Remus who gestured to the open seat at the opposite end near Tonks. 

Falling into the chair, she tucked one foot under her and leaned over the table. “We’ve found a Horcrux.” The room fell eerily silent as the others at the table shared a disbelieving look with each other. 

“Well, that is to say, we know who has it.” Her gaze shot over to Harry, who stepped forward with a lopsided turn of his lips, shoving his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. 

“Dolores Umbridge.” Hermione’s brow twitched as she spoke, adrenaline coursing through every inch of her. The room gave a collective huff; Draco was the only one to meet Hermione’s stare seriously. “Our best bet it is to sneak into the Ministry of Magic.” 

Silence returned, but this one felt loaded and brimming with uncertainty. 

Remus was the one to break the silence, his features screwed up to one side. “That doesn’t seem possible at this time. Let’s focus on the mission at hand and then we can put our attention on—”

“That’s just it,” Hermione interrupted, her eyes bright with excitement. “If we try to enter the Ministry of Magic, the place will swarm. It doesn’t matter if there are three of us or thirty. We need a sufficient distraction and I think—” Her eyes traveled from Draco to Remus to Harry, and a proud smile tugged at her lips. “I think if we plan these simultaneously, we can make it work. Even if Umbridge is in distress, if the other teams are storming Malfoy Manor? Well, at best, we’ll get in and out without backup arriving. At worst? They split their defenses. It’s the only way.”

Harry’s lips flattened as he bit back a smile, while over his shoulder Ron grinned proudly. The others at the table shared in a silent conversation, nodding and bobbing their heads before Moody stabbed his walking stick into the tile and two more chairs materialized around the table. 

“Take a seat. It seems we have a long night ahead of us,” Moody said with a grim set to his mouth as the boys took their rightful places at the table. 

XXXXX

**A/N: Surprise! Another update! Yay! Hopefullyyyy… this won’t be the last you see of me this week.**

**Alpha Love: MCal**

**Beta Babe: InDreams**

 


	16. Sixteen

**A/N: This is pretty lemony, if that’s something you’d like to be warned out.**

 

****Song Suggestion: Falling Like the Stars by James Arthur****

 

XXXXX

 

Draco laved wet kisses over her breasts, his hands firmly gripping the junction of her hip as he rocked her against his lap in a slow, almost lazy bout of lovemaking. Hermione’s fingers curled around the iron headboard as she pulled herself up so that his tip skimmed her entrance before crashing down on his lap again, bucking her hips slowly. 

 

Trailing his thumb over her nipple, he caught her gaze in a meaningful moment before catching her peak between his lips, and flicked his tongue out, earning a quiet little noise that splintered the quiet of their room. Sitting up, Draco guided her legs to wrap around his hips as he slid her back and forth along his lap, hitting that sensitive ridge inside of her that tipped her over the edge as she curled herself around him. As she rode the waves of her orgasm, Hermione let her head tip back, curls tickling her waist as he sucked on the taut lines of her throat.

 

When she’d finished, her body loosening around his lap, he lay her back, dipping her down onto the mattress, and continued his languid thrusts and avid attention to her neck, jaw, and breasts. 

 

Their interludes in the bedroom were normally heated and impassioned but something about the candles dimly glowing on the nightstand and the snow collecting on the windowpane left them moving together in a dance less familiar to them, but one she found she enjoyed all the same. 

 

Her nails dragged down the tight muscles of his back, curling into the flesh of his bum and he let out a low, strangled noise as he lifted above her. Shifting until he was resting back on his haunches, he stared down at her with heated awe. His hands memorized the paths of her body, up her thigh and curling around her hip, up the ladder of her ribs, and filling his palm with the weight of her breast before slipping over her neck and tipping her chin up with his thumb. 

 

The familiar call of her orgasm echoed deep inside her and she squirmed under his touch, wordlessly begging for more and thankfully, he appeased her. Firmly gripping her hips, he drove deep inside her at a pace that was still slow but determined and rough. Her lower back arched off the mattress as she keened and whimpered, and when the pad of his thumb pressed and swirled along her clit she fell over the edge, her hands muffling her cry. 

 

He followed her moments later, driving into her with a renewed vigor as he stared down at her with stormy eyes before collapsing on top of her. Their chests bumped with their panted breaths and Draco’s lips brushed along her cheekbone as he smoothed her curls at her hairline. 

 

“Tell me you’ll be okay,” he whispered, pulling back to stare at her properly. 

 

A smirk tugged on her lips. “I’ll be okay.” 

 

XXXXX

 

“Morning, Theo!” Hermione chimed, toeing the door open as a tray of meagre breakfast followed her in. “How are you today?” 

 

“Dead.” 

 

“Unlikely,” Hermione clucked, pulling open the curtains to reveal the freshly snowed landscape. “What did Poppy say last night?”

 

Theo winced from the bright sun reflecting off the snow and bouncing back into his room. “She said I should be allowed to die in peace without any meddling Gryffindors—” Hermione whipped around, leveling him with her most ferocious stare and his facade broke as he chuckled. “Right,” he continued. “Well, she said I’ll just need some time to get back into fighting shape.”

 

“Well, luckily you were rather fit before, so with a little physical therapy you should soon be back to tip-top shape!” As she spoke, the tray settled over his lap, and she watched a saccharine smile spread over his features. 

 

“I didn’t realize you’d noticed how fit I was, Granger. You’re going to make me blush.” His smug expression waned as he attempted to push up into a new position in bed, a low, pained noise rumbling in his chest. Hermione rushed to his side, fussing over him and fixing her hands on his ribs in a vain attempt to help. The sheet pooled at his waist, exposing the well-formed muscles of his abdomen under her touch. Ripping her hands back, a fierce blush stained her cheeks. “I’m just teasing you,” he supplied, a grin working its way back onto his features. 

 

“I know that,” she clipped, bristling under his self-satisfied glare. Hermione often forgot what house Theodore Nott had been sorted into, because his characteristics simply didn’t boast the same overly exaggerated mannerisms. Certainly, he was smart, ambitious, and cunning, but in a subdued way: a garden snake instead of a viper. “Eat,” she commanded tersely, still finding herself feeling out of sorts from the innocent interaction. “I’ll be back after to tend to your wound.”

 

As she slipped from the room, she nearly plowed into Draco, who was leaning on the thin strip of wood near her door inspecting his nail beds with an idle fascination. For some reason she couldn’t quite name, Hermione’s blush reappeared as his gaze fell over her. 

 

“Is he awake? I need to talk to him about something.” 

 

Hermione nodded, stepping towards the living room and brushing her curls over her shoulder. “Yes, he’s just eating. You can go in.” 

 

“Thanks, love.” His hand reached out impossibly fast and swatted her on the bum as she passed, earning a yelp and a laugh as she jumped in her step. 

 

“Malfoy!” she hissed as he disappeared into the smaller room with a wink. With a shake of her head, she made her way into the sitting room, curling up in the armchair and tucking a knitted blanket over her legs. Her attention was stolen by the snowflakes falling outside her window and the warmth of the wood-burning fire next to her. 

 

There was magic in memories, in the way they were brought forth by a smell or a feeling. Something about the smell of this particular fire sent her back to the Gryffindor common room, and hot chocolate sprinkled with cinnamon on winter mornings. Plucking her book from the end table, she made to splay it over her lap, but an angry shout from the bedroom startled her. 

 

“ _ BULLSHITE _ !” 

 

At that, Hermione shuffled from her cozy seat, rushing into the room where the two boys were clearly coming to a head. Draco was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on the top of his knees and his lips pulled into a tight line. Theo, however, was fighting against his injury to get louder or taller or anything that might give him the upper hand. 

 

“What on earth is going on in here?” She’d never heard the two so much as disagree on something before; they worked as a unit in all things, and seeing them so vehemently at odds was disconcerting. 

 

“Tell her, Malfoy!” Theo pointed with an accusing finger at Hermione, even though she was quite sure he didn’t mean to point it at her.

 

Draco’s jaw clicked and his palms opened to the ceiling. “Theo’s not allowed on the mission to Malfoy Manor,” he scoffed, and as upset as Theo was, she hated to say, but it made sense. 

 

“Well, Theo…” she started, but he made a strangled little scoff and uncharacteristically waved her off. A swell of anger to crash in her chest. “Theo, you’re on the mend! What do you expect? It could compromise—”

 

“It’ll compromise jackshit! Malfoy, you’re off your fucking rocker if you think you’re going back there alone. No one else knows that house as well as we do. Granger will pump me full of pain potions and Pepperup—”

 

“ _ I will do no such thing _ !” Hermione’s shrieked in protest but Theo merely continued. 

 

“I know you had something to do with this, Malfoy. I know it and it’s not working on me like it did on her.” Theo’s chin jerked in her direction and she let out a sharp huff, sending a curl fluttering away from her face, mumbling, “N _ ow you know how I feel’ _ . 

 

Draco slapped the tops of his thighs and stood. “Mate, it wasn’t my call. The mission is tomorrow and you’re barely able to sit up straight. Don’t get pissed—”

 

“ _ I’m already pissed _ !”

 

“—But you’ll be a distraction to the team. You’ll slow us down, and if I have to somehow get us into that fucking cellar and out with three bumbling Gryffindor idiots who were stupid enough to get caught in the first place—no offense, Granger—” To which she rolled her eyes severely and leaned against the wall with a scowl. “Then we can’t have anything else slowing us down.”

 

Theo’s eyes clenched shut as he pinched the space between his brows and let out a sharp exhale. Something in him softened though and when he opened his eyes, he gave Draco a firm nod. “Fine.”

 

Draco left the room without another word, pausing near Hermione to offer her a half-smile before exiting. 

 

Kicking off the wall, Hermione sighed, flicking her wand to summon the salve and bandages as she sat on the edge of Theo’s bed. “Sucks, doesn’t it?” she offered, her tone almost chiding.  Theo grunted his assent. “Would you like me to repeat your speech back to you? What was it, again? Something about how he protects the things he loves and all that?”

 

The corner of Theo’s lip curled into a grimace as Hermione gently guided him forward, peeling off the stained gauze from his back. 

 

“It’s not safe, where he’s going. Not for anyone—but certainly not for him,” Theo managed through a tight jaw. 

 

“I know,” she confessed quietly, idly massaging the cream into his wound, which was already looking leaps better than the day before. 

 

“It’s a bad idea.” 

 

She let out another long breath. “I know.” 

 

XXXXX

 

Draco was gone most of the afternoon and Harry and Ron replaced his company at Surrey house. Their plan was tight, foolproof, some would say, and vials of blank Polyjuice sat in a row on the table in front of them, ready for the specially procured hairs of the three Ministry employees they would be impersonating. 

 

Before Godric’s Hollow, the planning of these types of missions felt surreal. Almost like planning a dinner party with famous deceased people you knew you’d never get to have. But after, everything felt different. This was real, and the tension that spread between them was palpable, as for the umpteenth time they worked over how best to get from the lifts to Umbridge’s office and then back to the lifts. 

 

“There’s a Floo network in the Auror’s Office. Tonks will be there on duty and said she’ll keep an eye out for us if things get out of hand,” Harry offered, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he stared at the crude maps sent by Arthur.

 

“If we’re separated?” Ron asked, his brows pinching together as they stared at the tangible proof of their plan. 

 

Hermione spoke next, tucking a foot underneath her as she did. “Canterbury house. Everyone check-in there upon mission completion and wait for further instruction.” 

 

A moment of tense silence settled between them. “Get in, get the locket—” Harry’s vibrant gaze filtered between the two of them. “Then get the fuck out.” 

 

XXXXX

 

There probably wasn’t much that would release the tension permanently residing over Hermione’s shoulders but a shower helped. The pressure was erring on the side of too strong and Hermione liked to turn the heat up until it was nearly scalding, leaving her skin angry and red after she stepped from the steam. 

 

Her chin was tucked towards her chest as she bobbed her head back and forth, stretching the tight muscles of her shoulders. Sodden ringlets fell over her muscles of her neck, falling in a web over her breasts until she tilted her chin towards the jets and brushed them over her shoulders. 

 

A terrified yelp escaped her as the rings of the shower curtain scraped against the rod and Malfoy stepped in, one hand covering his manhood. 

 

“You scared me,” she admonished, turning towards the water and letting it run over her face while his hands curled around her hips and he stepped into her. The chill of his dry skin caused gooseflesh to spread over her spine as he pressed his growing erection into her bum. 

 

She tipped her head back, resting it on his shoulder and winding her arms behind them, kneading his neck. Never one to waste an opportunity to pay proper attention to her breasts, his hands skimmed the length of her tummy and he fondled her while the shower pelted them in a lovely beat. Her lower back arched, pressing her bum into him while his hands made a lazy trail over her skin, dipping between her thighs and brushing against her, teasing. 

 

Turning so she could kiss him properly, he abruptly dropped to his knees. He wasted no time as his lips found her, his tongue sliding over her clit, and despite the somewhat awkward angle and the slippery floor of the shower, she lost herself in his worshipful ministrations. 

 

His hand caught the back of her knee and lifted it, resting her foot on the side of the tub as he dipped lower and thrust a firm tongue in her slit, and she cried out, tangling her fingers in his soaked hair as he fucked her mercilessly with his mouth. The wanton little noises that slipped over her tongue were only for him, praises as she crested and fell apart on his mouth. His hands gripped the flesh of her arse almost painfully while she tried to steady herself on the slick tile and the flimsy shower curtain. 

 

Draco stood, pressing his face in the water and carding his fingers through his wet tresses, pushing them off his forehead and then running a hand down his face. When he looked down at her, his normally light eyes were dark, his pupils blown with feral lust as he turned the water off with a flick of his wrist. 

 

Hermione stuttered, letting out a disappointed huff. “You don’t want to—you know?” 

 

His full lips twisted in a wicked smirk as he slid his hands down the curve of her spine and palmed her arse, catching his bottom lip with his teeth and letting it drag across them. “Don’t be ridiculous, Granger. Of course I do, but safety first. You want me to knock us both out when I take us down?” 

 

Pulling back the curtain, his lean muscles glistened with the residual water from the shower and he stepped over the edge carefully before gripping her firmly around the waist and lifting her effortlessly. She let out a playful yelp as her ankles locked around his waist and he made for the door. 

 

“Theo!” she hissed. “He might see us!”

 

Draco rolled his eyes and ripped the door open, walking them the three steps to their bedroom, and kicking the door quickly shut with his heel as he latched his mouth onto her nipple; her head fell back as he nipped it lightly with his teeth. Their bare bodies slid together delightfully as drips of water trailed over them, and Hermione couldn’t keep her hands still as she worked on remembering every dip and curve of his body as he steered them towards the bed. 

 

The tip of his cock bumped her entrance and her already sensitive bud, and when he fell on top of her, caging her in his arms and sliding into her without preamble, she cried out, dragging her nails down his slick back. Her feet arched, lifting onto her toes as he pumped into her, his breath hot on her neck as he set a brutal pace, hitching her knee on his hip to hit her deeper, harder,  _ faster _ . 

 

His fingers dug into her flesh in a rapturous way that left her whining, and when without any warning, he pulled from her, she nearly sobbed. “I want to see you, Granger.” 

 

She let out a terrifying little growl as she shoved him hard in the chest and threw her leg over his lap, seating herself quickly on his cock as she rocked against him roughly, her curls falling in a drenched canopy around them. She barely noticed the droplets collecting on his chest as she rode him until she was shattering on top of him, her nails clawing into the tight muscles in his chest as he grunted to completion, driving up as he emptied into her. 

 

As her second orgasm waned, Hermione crashed down on top of him, careful to sweep her curls from his face lest he suffocate. Breath felt nearly impossible as their still wet bodies glided against each other and his cock softened inside of her. 

 

One of his hands traveled to her bum, massaging the globe of her arse as the other one snaked up her spine and tangled in her curls. He kissed any inch of skin he could reach, peppering kisses on her shoulders, neck, and cheek until finally she turned her face towards him and their lips caught in a deep but tender kiss. Her nipples pebbled as they brushed against his chest and after a moment, she felt him, impossibly, stiffen inside her and she pulled back with wide eyes. “I know it’s a big day tomorrow, Granger,” Draco said with a smirk, “but I have no intentions of letting you sleep tonight.” 

 

He rolled them again, this time thrusting into her lazily as she keened and writhed under his touch. Every fiber of her being felt overly sensitive and the mixture of pleasure and over-stimulation left her on the brink of another orgasm after little effort. 

 

Draco’s tongue pressed against hers and she felt something inside her crack as he moved slowly inside her. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—humor the idea that this might be the last time. It couldn’t be. They’d be just like this again tomorrow, tangled so closely that it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended. 

 

A traitorous tear slid down her cheek and a soft sob vibrated in her chest. Draco pulled back, shifting so his thumb could swipe the tear from her face and then kissed her again. “I love you,” he said quietly, rocking his hips into her in time with his confession. 

 

“Love you,” she whimpered, fresh tears threatening to bubble over. “And I’ll tell you again tomorrow night.” 

 

He swallowed thickly, his brows furrowing and before he could betray a single emotion, he buried his face in her shoulder and thrust inside her until they were both so lost in each other that they couldn’t fathom the day ahead. 

 

XXXXX

 

True to his word, they barely slept. Hermione nodded off some time in the early morning and she woke with a start, blinking furiously as Draco tucked a curl behind her ear. Fully dressed and with a stern expression painted on his features, Draco sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her with an unreadable expression. 

 

Fear and anxiety swirled in her belly as she fought to make sense of the still night around them. “I’ve got to go,” he said, his voice thick and heavy in the darkness, and without her permission, tears spilled down her cheeks and her throat closed in. 

 

Every instinct she had implored her to stop him, to drag him into her arms and maybe just run away together. Surely they could find something to pay their rent and just live simply on a beach somewhere, untouched by war and megalomaniacs and impending genocide. 

 

“I don’t want you to go.” Her voice cracked as she shot out of bed and she clutched the sheet to her bare chest as she rested her forehead on his chest. “It doesn’t feel right.” 

 

His fingers tightened around the back of her neck and he sucked in a broken breath before pressing his lips to her temple. “It’ll be over before we know it, yeah?” Draco paused, breathing her in before speaking again. “Granger, I’m not fucking kidding, be safe today. I swear to Merlin if something happens to you, I will personally see that Twathead and Weasel are flayed like the stupid fucks they are.” 

 

Hermione couldn’t help the dark chuckle that spilled out of her mouth and she curled her fingers into his black jumper. He pulled back, cradling her wet cheeks in his fingers and wiping them with the pads of his thumbs. The way his eyes slid over her face, learning every curve of her cheeks by heart, made her belly flop in an awful way, in a way that felt like he was just making sure that he’d never forget what she looked like. 

 

Emotion washed over her and her features pinched painfully as she shook her head, stuttering and sobbing. “Something doesn’t feel right.” 

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothed, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “I’m coming home to you. Okay? You just make sure you come home to me.”

 

Her throat felt hot and tight as she sucked in haggard breaths, nodding like a fool. “Promise?” Her eyes blew wide and round as she stared at him, lips pressing into a hard line as her fingers slid over his cheekbones. 

 

Something serious flashed behind his eyes and he crushed her body into him. “I promise, Granger. I’m nowhere through loving you yet. Just… be safe.” 

 

A hollow laugh bounced in her chest as she pulled back to stare at him one more time, remembering their last conversation when they were splitting for a mission. “No,  _ you _ be safe.” 

 

His mouth crashed onto hers, bruising her lips as he kissed her, fingers curling around her and dragging her into him. Her tears coated their lips and when he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together, Hermione let out a pained cry, her fingers flying up to stifle the broken noise. 

 

“I’ll be back for you, Granger.  _ Promise _ .” With a final hard press of his lips to her forehead, he swept off the bed, pausing in the door frame to look at her one last time. 

 

She wanted to slow time right then, remember the tilt to his chin and the way his overgrown hair looked when he pushed it back like that. The sharp point of his throat bobbed and he smirked back at her once more, but everything about it was wrong—hollow, even. He turned, pulling the door closed behind him, and the sound of the latch made her jump. 

 

Everything was fucking wrong about this and she was powerless to stop it. 

 

XXXXX

  
  


**A/N: In the words of my beta,** **_“Hnnnunghhh_ ** **.” That’s how I feel about posting this chapter. Would love to know your thoughts and if you’re still reading along with me :) It makes my day!**

 

**Alpha Love: MCal**

**Beta Babe: InDreams**

 

**Thanks to these queens for priortizing me and this silly little story so I can update at my hearts desire! You spoil me.**

  
  



	17. Seventeen

**A/N: I have chosen not to retell the story of the Golden Trio in the Ministry of Magic. You can assume that up until their departure, it follows canon.**

 

Ron’s strangled cries echoed around the forest, much as Theo’s had just days prior, and Hermione fell ungracefully in a heap next to him. There was a scuffle next to her and she shuffled away from the fray, her focus struggling to keep up with the two men wrestling in the snow next to her. 

“ _ Harry _ !” she cried, as Harry pinned the older man to the ground with a grunt. His opponent, a man with graying hair and a square jaw, drove his elbow into Harry’s spine and his body buckled under the impact. Pushing to her feet, Hermione gripped her wand, ignoring the blood pouring from Ron’s shoulder onto the snow at her feet. She settled her aim on the two of them, but they were moving too quickly, and one inch made all the difference. 

Harry rolled, his arm winding around the Death Eater’s neck until the man was clawing and sputtering, his face turning the shade of an eggplant. “Wand!” Harry shouted, his hand reaching out for Hermione, and she thrust it into his waiting hand. “ _ Avada Kedavra _ !”

Hermione shouted, “ _ NO _ !” as he cast, her hand flying to slow him but it was too late. The Death Eater was limp in his arms and Harry quickly pushed him off and took a brief respite in the snow. 

“Harry! You… you didn’t have to do that!”

With a scoff, Harry rolled over and tossed her wand back to her, searching the snow for his. Ron made a gurgling noise, his normally ivory skin turning a sick shade of gray as Hermione dropped to her knees next to him. “ _Accio_ _Dittany_!” she cast with a quick flick of her wrist and then returned to Ron. “Shh, shh! You’ll be okay, just hang in there. We’ve got you, now.” 

She easily plucked the vial from the air and unstoppered it, administering the potion deep into the wound as Ron’s eyes rolled back in his head. “What the fuck happened?” she hissed, glaring at Harry who was kneeling on the other side of Ron. 

“I don’t know. I thought we were clear… but when we jumped through the Floo, he latched on to Ron. We couldn’t stay at Grimmauld, so I Apparated us here, making sure to bring him too.” 

“Harry Potter! Why on earth would you bring him back here?  _ You killed him _ !” Her words were more of an accusation as a tear worked its way down her cheek. 

“Yeah, you’re damn right I did, Hermione. He’d been to Grimmauld and Surrey and I wasn’t letting him leave here with that knowledge—”

She cut him off as she capped the Dittany. “We could have taken him back to Bristol.” 

“ _ Back to Bristol _ ?” Harry’s face was thick with disbelief. “Do you know how many lives I might have just saved? How many people he may have killed in the months to come? Hell, how many people he killed already? He could have been the one that killed Cormac!”

“You don’t get to pass that judgment!” Blinking back to reality when Ron coughed between them and her eyes clenched shut. 

Harry jumped to his feet, staring down at her with an angry curl to his lips. “To hell, I don’t, Hermione. I know you want to live in this place of denial where we all end this war with a clean conscience, but I’m telling you right the fuck now, it’s not happening. If I didn’t kill him, he would have killed me, or you or Ron. And I’m okay with blood on my hands, but not  _ your _ blood.” His finger jutted in Hermione’s direction and she flinched away from him. 

“Who the hell are you?” Her voice was drenched in disbelief as her features pinched tightly in and she shook her head. 

“I’m the person who has to end this war, Hermione. And if that means that this trash dies at the tip of my wand, then so be it. I’d do it again and again and again if that means my friends are even  _ fractionally _ safer.”

Hermione’s jaw clenched and she rose to her feet, pointing her wand at Ron’s chest and levitating him gently. “I need to get him inside and stitched up. I need Blood Replenishing Potion, as well as Pain and Dreamless Sleep. Can you manage that?” 

With a severe roll of his eyes, Harry darted up the steps and disappeared into the house, Hermione following him closely with Ron hovering in front of her. 

XXXXX

Nearly an hour later, Hermione loosened her hair from where it was knotted on the crown of her head and drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around them. Her jaw quivered as she buried her face in the space between her arms and a soft cry slipped past her. 

The Ministry had been too close. Way too fucking close. They now had the locket in their possession as well as a severely injured Ronald and a corpse outside the door. Harry had sent word to have it disposed of but Hermione couldn’t stomach the idea of another dead body being carried off the property. 

How the hell had they gotten here? 

A thought she had been fighting off finally broke through the dam in her mind and Draco flooded her thoughts. They had been meant to go back to Canterbury, but in the rush at Grimmauld, Harry had brought them all here. 

Hermione pulled her wand from her side and she clung to the feeling of Draco dragging her into his chest, curling around her as snow fell lightly outside the window. “ _ Expecto Patronum _ .” Her otter appeared, although its normally playful side seemed diminished as it sat expectantly, waiting for her word. “Tell Moody: We’ve got it. The Golden Trio is safe at Surrey house.”

With a slight dip of her otter’s head, it slipped through the wall and out of sight and Hermione’s shoulders sagged. 

“How is he?” Harry asked from the door, leaning against the frame and kicking one foot over his ankle. 

She couldn’t bear to look at him. Logically? Well logically, she was there with him. She understood every reason he gave and supported him. But she still felt haunted by the boy on the train with the smudged glasses and wild hair; seeing him kill someone in front of her changed things irreparably and Hermione wasn’t sure how she was supposed to go back now. “He’ll be fine. A little rest and he’ll be back to normal soon.”

“We still need the sword—two Horcruxes and nothing to destroy them with,” Harry said absently, dragging a hand through his messy locks. 

Hermione’s teeth ground together as he spoke and she turned back towards Ron. “I told you what we know.”

“Fuck, Hermione. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m talking to you.”

With a loud, indignant huff, she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, first time in months,” she mumbled mostly to herself, although she wasn’t lucky enough that it fell on deaf ears. 

Harry kicked off from where he’d been leaning, squaring his shoulders to her. “You want to know why things are different? It’s _ you _ ! You won’t budge on your moral high ground and I don’t know what it’s going to take for you to see the reality of our situation but I can’t keep making decisions just for you to sneer at me from your ivory tower. I can’t talk to you! You refuse to discuss something that falls outside of what you have deemed right in this war because I’m immediately vilified. Can I get a fucking break?”

“Harry—” she started, although she had no intention of finishing the sentence. 

“I hope you’re never in a situation where you have to find out if you have it in you to kill someone, but if you need to—fuck, I hope you don’t hesitate. This war will  _ kill _ you and I can’t lose you.”

Burying her face in the crook of her arm, she used all of the fight left in her to stave off the tears threatening to compromise her stronghold. A few long moments passed and with a long sigh, Harry moved further into the room, resting a hand on the back of her chair. 

“Harry?” He hummed a response without turning towards her. “If we win, but we aren’t us—is it worth it?”

His chin tucked into his chest as he shrugged. “I don’t know. But in order to find out, we’ve got to win.” Harry’s hand landed on her shoulder and her hand wound up to wrap around his, gripping it tightly. 

“Can you stay with him?” she managed after a few minutes, wiping her tears. “I need to go check in with the other teams.” 

Harry snickered. “With your boyfriend, you mean.” 

“Shut up.” She gave a hollow laugh and vacated the seat next to Ron, wrapping Harry in a fierce hug before slipping from the room. 

She headed first to her bedroom, discarding her bloodied business suit and changing into her denims and a blouse. Plucking her winter cloak off the back of the sofa, she froze, hearing a single pop of Apparition.  _ Draco _ . 

With a smile playing on the corners of her mouth she dropped her cloak back where it laid and rushed towards the door, searching the horizon for him. Her brows dropped as she stepped through the rickety screen door and Theo emerged from the tree line, his gaze fixed on his trainers as he worked his way towards the house. 

“Theo?” 

He froze, his eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of moments. An ill feeling sunk in her belly, twisting in a nasty way and causing her knees to buckle as her hands found the railing of the porch. Even with her intuition crashing and thrashing inside her, she still fought against it. Still prayed that Draco was just a step behind, but when Theo’s blue gaze met hers, his eyes rimmed red with both shed and unshed tears, she felt the cracking in her chest as truly as she felt the cold air on her cheeks. It was visceral and painful, lancing through her as her eyes glazed over and she took a few steps back, shaking her head as the truth crashed over her. 

_ No _ . Draco was coming, maybe caught up with Moody and his insatiable need to debrief every last person in minute detail. Yes, that was it. He was just delayed a moment. 

She didn’t notice that Theo had climbed the stairs, didn’t notice as his arms banded around her and her knees gave out. A foreign, feral sob worked its way up her throat and her small fists pounded irrationally into Theo’s chest. Again… and again… and again. 

The more she hit him, the tighter he squeezed until the two of them sunk to their knees in a strange embrace, sharing in sobs and broken breaths as they fell apart. 

After a moment that felt like an eternity, her cheek pressed against his chest. A numbness washed over her, cries fading into shattered breaths, and when she spoke, her voice was husky and hollow. “Tell me.”

Theo lifted his chin, resting it on the top of her curls, his hold on her tightening. “He was taken at Malfoy Manor. He—he saved them. Luna, George, and Lavender are back but he didn’t make it out. They’re working on a plan now.” Her wet lashes fell heavy on her cheeks. She physically flinched as vivid visions of Draco’s capture sliced through her, the sound he would make under a  _ Crucio _ , and the dark cell he may already be in. “We’ll get him back, Hermione.” 

A fresh, fiery rage bloomed to life in her chest as she freed herself from his hold. “Where are they planning?” she asked, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she stood, trying to quell her wild breaths. 

Theo joined her, his jaw clenched tight as he peered at her through a thick fringe of wet lashes. “Bristol house.”

She nodded firmly, swallowing her impending tears. “I just need to let Harry know. I’ll be ready to leave in a minute.”

Something flashed behind Theo’s eyes but he didn’t speak on it, instead just managing a nod as Hermione disappeared inside. Once through the door, her eyes caught on the blackboard over the medical corner and her teeth ground together in a mixture of fury and pain. 

**M.I.A.**

_ D. Malfoy _

XXXXX

**CHRISTMAS**

There’d been a time when beauty didn’t harbour pain.  A time when the snowfall made her smile and the sunrise meant a fresh day. Not anymore. Gods, who was she now? A shell of a girl that had existed just weeks prior; a girl who scowled when people smiled and hid away in the shadows of the safe houses. 

Curled on the couch where they shared Firewhisky and secrets, Hermione stared at the corner of the room where she would have put a Christmas tree. 

She couldn’t stand to look at any of them. They didn’t get it. 

Hopefully, they never would. 

The pain curled and unfurled in her belly in a tangled web that she couldn’t sort through. Falling in love had been a mistake. Loving someone…  _ needing _ someone… what the fuck had she been thinking? And now she was left with a shitty, rotting cottage and a mess of emotions she couldn’t make sense of. 

It’d been nearly two weeks and they were nowhere near any closer to finding Draco now then they had been when he’d been taken. Whenever the conversation surfaced, she was hushed. Told to sit down and wait. They’d figured out the best way forward, they assured her endlessly. 

They were only stoking the fire in her belly as she was forced to wait. Forced into complacently staring at the barren corner of the room with a chill settling over her, Hermione wasn’t sure how much more she could take. 

The door crashed over her shoulder and she jumped in her seat, an angry curl of her features as Theo emerged. She was surprised to see him drop a heavy duffle at his feet as he fell onto the opposite side of the couch. 

“You’re leaving, then?” Hermione asked, her voice clipped. 

Theo nodded, wringing his hands together between his knees. “Yeah. They want me at Canterbury for missions.” He paused a moment, chewing on a thought. “I’m—I’m not giving up, Granger—”

Her eyes shot up, a swell of unwelcome emotion crashing around her. “Don’t call me that.” 

Theo flinched. “Hermione, it’s not over. I know he’s still out there and I won’t stop until we find him. I promise.”

A hollow laugh escaped her. “I’m done with promises. They’re for the stupid or the naive, of which I am neither.”

Clenching his eyes shut, Theo buried his face in his hands for a moment. Almost too quickly, as if he were trying to convince himself, he was on his feet, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll be at Canterbury house if you need me. This is for you—” He set down a small, square box next to her leg and she sucked in a harsh breath as her eyes caught on the familiar scrawl on the brown box.  “He was excited to give it to you. You should have it.”

Theo’s face pinched, unable to stand the moment any longer, and without another word, he disappeared through the front door and was followed swiftly by the soft  _ pop _ of his departure. 

She ignored the box for the better part of a half an hour until finally curiosity got the best of her and she lifted the lid from the box. Inside was a leather cord, a small golden circle sitting in the center. With shaking fingers, she lifted it gingerly from its home and stared at the minuscule holes gaping the center. It was completely nonsensical. There were nearly twenty random punctures in the gold circle and there was zero rhyme or reason to them at all. Still, something about holding a gift he had meant for her, while he spent his Christmas no doubt rotting in a dungeon, cut her deeper than she thought possible.

There was no pain in the world like this. It consumed her. It transformed into rage then back into an unbearable sadness. How long did they expect her to sit back and wait? Her thumb rubbed absently across the smooth surface of the pendant and something inside her that had been rattling and broken, mended and solidified. 

Whipping around in her seat, her eyes landed on the large map near the chalkboard, red pins and black X’s littered across the United Kingdom. Draco was hidden under one of those X’s—and if he wasn’t? Well, then there were more X’s that needed to be uncovered. 

Hermione shot from her seat, summoning her charmed bag and stuffing it with clothes, supplies, potions, and the little Muggle and magical currency she had. Back in the living room, she cast a tracing charm, staining a parchment with the map from the wall and shoving it in her bag. 

Lacing her hiking boots, she waited for the crash. Waited for the overwhelming pain to sink into her belly but it didn’t. It had yet again transformed into a renewed determination; she had a plan. The first X was near the shore in Kent; she’d Apparate to London and take a train. She’d scour the fucking coast if she had to. 

Dark magic left traces. Traces she’d been trained to look for. 

Shrugging her coat on, she made for the front door. Pausing briefly as her mind ventured towards her friends. The friends who would eventually show up to an empty Surrey house and no explanation. With a small huff, she summoned parchment and her Muggle pen and scratched a note, tacking it to the front door before disappearing past the wards and Disapparating. 

_ Don’t freak out. I’m okay.  _

_ I’ll send word and be back when I can.  _

_ XX- Hermione _

XXXXX

**A/N: Welp. Here it is!**

**Many of you have guessed the correct movie, though for those who haven’t seen said movie or guessed, I won’t say specifically which one it is.**

**I will, however, let you know that other than one or two scenes, the rest of the story follows its own plot. The ending does not necessarily match the movie which this fic was inspired by.**

**Would love to know your thoughts! As you know, I have some chapters banked and I am actually in the process of writing the final three chapters now!! Which is terrifying and exciting. Until the story is finished, I will continue with my current update schedule. Once it’s done, I will post chapters as they are returned for my wonderful beta.**

**I’m so incredibly nervous and excited for the second part of this story and can’t wait to share it with you all!**

**Alpha Love: MCal**

**Beta Babe: InDreams**

**Until next time, LK**

 


	18. Eighteen

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

March felt different this year. An unseasonal warm spell had settled over southern England and it made the past few weeks easier for Hermione. There was nothing quite as frustrating as curling up against a tree trunk for a few measly hours of sleep, only to fight against losing consciousness so that your warming charm held out.

Not that she always slept outside; she'd been able to find some hospitality with friendly Muggles along the way. Only a few were unsavory and she had been quick to pull out her training techniques and her wand if necessary.

Truthfully, the longer she stayed gone, the harder it was to go back. Three months passed, marking each day by the survival of another sunset. She ignored the Patronuses from the boys and even Remus, unsure what to say. On the few occasions she'd attempted to return them, conjuring a happy memory had felt watery and weak and barely a few wisps of magic materialized.

After the castle she scouted in Wales, she knew it was time. The scrolls she'd been working on were nearing a dozen and honestly, she was bloody tired. She had been running from the truth—from the reality that Malfoy wasn't there—and coming back meant acknowledging it.

Standing just outside the wards of Bristol house, her hands jammed in her trouser pockets, and with fresh pain bubbling to the surface, she allowed herself a moment. Her eyes fluttered closed and there she saw silver eyes, almost as if he were still standing there. She could trace the lines of his smug smirk, feel his hand on the curve of her lower back as they twirled on an empty dance floor. Replay the delightful the way he shoved his smart glasses up his perfectly straight nose, and then crinkled his brow when he concentrated.

Absently, she rubbed the pad of her thumb on the gold pendant Malfoy had meant for her. It was a talisman now, her last connection to him, and at times when everything seemed to crash around her, it was her lifeline. She had to survive, had to make it another day because Malfoy depended on her. With a fortifying breath, she stepped through the wards, feeling a shimmer of magic brush against her skin, and with a steeled jaw, made her way through the front door.

The halls were eerily quiet, the only sound the squelching of her damp boots on the wood floors, and she had a flash of paranoia as she peered into the empty rooms.

"Hermione?" a familiar voice called from behind her. She turned slowly, tucking her chin into her chest as she did so.

As if he'd seen a ghost, Trueman Malley stood gaping in her direction. He was the most casual she'd ever seen him, an old blue flannel misbuttoned and untucked on his torso, and trainers on his feet. His hair was a little longer, hanging in a loose fringe over his blue eyes. She was struck in that moment how very much he looked like her father and fresh tears lined her gaze.

"Is that you?" The corners of his eyes tightened and he made a small step towards her, as if she were a skittish animal he was afraid of spooking, lest she run again. "I was about to give up hope we'd see you around here again. Is—is everything alright?"

Two blinks. Her spine straightened and she swallowed, trying to regain her composure. "Quite." She nodded once. "Is Remus here? Or anyone? I have some stuff to discuss."

Trueman's gaze shot to his feet, the valley between his brows crinkling as his lips folded into a tight line. "Uh—" The toe of his trainer kicked at nothing. "We lost Kingsley. Almost two months ago now."

His words were a punch to her gut. Kingsley.

"Alastor should be upstairs. It's a bit quiet around here—the teams are out for the rest of the afternoon."

Tilting her chin curiously, Hermione stared back at him. "You're not with them?"

"Ah, I would be but an old injury flared up." Trueman's hand came up to rest on the back of his neck as his face screwed up, a faint blush gracing his kind features. "I'm an old man now and today they didn't need my bum leg weighing them down."

Hermione offered him a sad smile as she nodded, forcing her mind not to follow the breadcrumbs of where her friends might be and why they needed to be extra diligent.

"You've missed a lot," Trueman said, something flashing behind his eyes. "Head on up. Alastor will be eager to talk to you I'm sure." He chuckled when Hermione rolled her eyes, a barely-there smile twitching her lips.

He turned but before he could take two steps, Hermione called out to him. "I want to say thank you!" she blurted and he peered back at her over his shoulder. "What you taught us? It's saved my life a time or two. I don't think I'd be here if you hadn't."

A genuine grin stretched over his face; he dipped his head once in her direction and began a slow walk back towards the sitting room, a limp impairing his gait.

Climbing the grand stairs at Bristol house, Hermione felt a tangle of nerves settle deep in her belly, and an audible groan rumbled from the back of her throat as she knocked on the door to the study.

"Come in!" Moody barked, and even though she had anticipated his grouchy demeanor, it still made her jump.

Pushing the door open, Hermione stepped decidedly into the room, her chin held high, even though on the inside she was desperately terrified she'd shrivel up at any moment.

"You're back," he gruffed, keeping his human eye firmly on a map on his desk while his magical one zoomed in on her.

"I am," she responded, her tone clipped and formal.

A painfully long moment stretched out before them as both declined to speak, and the longer he ignored her appearance altogether, the more enraged she became, until finally, she snapped. "I'd like to be placed with the field teams."

Moody snorted.

"I've gone through just as much training as the rest of them, maybe even more with my months on the road—"

This caught his attention; his back straightened as he finally looked at her. "On the road? We assumed you to be with your parents."

It felt like she'd swallowed a slow-burning ember and she ignored the painful tremor searing down her throat. "No, Sir. I went first to Kent and had a close call there; I was recognized, and after—" Again, silver eyes and platinum hair flashed behind her closed lids and she forced them open just to drive him away. "After Malfoy being targeted, I knew they weren't safe."

His gaze tightened, his fingers steepling over a place on the map as he studied her. "You sent them away? Where in the hell have you been for three months?"

Pressure built behind her eyes and she levied a tired sigh. "I obliviated them. They're safe now and overseas with no recollection of ever having had a daughter in the first place. I've spent the last three months scouring Britain for leads on Malfoy's disappearance. Has there been any luck in tracking him down?"

She knew there hadn't. If there had been, someone would have found a way to tell her, but that didn't stop naive hope from blooming from time to time. Daydreams of wandering back here and finding him lounging in a sunny window, shaking his head at the audacity of her Gryffindor-esque tendencies to comb the countryside for him when he sat so safely here.

Of course, that wasn't the case, and Moody confirmed so with a shake of his head. "There has not. Several missions to recover him have been unsuccessful. We're doing everything we can, but this is a war after all. I'm not here just for the tea, Granger."

"I want to be assigned to a team," she repeated, taking a step further into the room.

"That's not possible. Agreements have been made—"

Another step. "Unmake them," Hermione challenged, her voice firm and now unwavering.

"Go back on my word just because you want to look for your boyfriend?" he grunted, sounding startlingly similar to an ape she'd seen at the zoo as a child. "No. You'll return to the Horcrux hunt with Harry and Ron. You'll find them at Grimmauld—"

"You made a deal with Malfoy and Theo that I stay out of the field in exchange for their knowledge of the Pureblood estates. Well, what if I have better than that?"

Moody's chin tilted to the side, disbelief plain on his features. Reaching into her charmed bag, she pulled out a single scroll, unfurling it so it hovered over her abdomen. A strange delight coiled in her belly as his disbelief transformed into awe.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Hermione took the remaining steps towards his desk, laying the map down flat and keeping it open by resting her palms on the edges. On it was a detailed survey of the Death Eater fortress in Cornwall. There was a crude sketch of the border and any major obstacles that could hinder or help an attack, even a faint line that traced the wards around the property. Under the drawing was a timestamp of guard changes, how many Death Eaters seemed to be there at any given point, and an underlined passage: **NO PRISONERS KEPT ON PROPERTY.**

Moody gulped, looking up at her with a fresh suspicion.

Her stare rivaled his as she dragged in a deep breath. "I've got nearly a dozen more of these in my bag. And they're yours—so long as I'm allowed on a field team."

_Checkmate._

Moody's lip curled. "Team One, or now as they call themselves, Thunderbird. Remus is the lead and will brief you back at Canterbury. If you'd like to remain at Surrey house—"

"No, Sir," she rushed, unable to fathom stepping foot in that house again. "I'll move my things into Canterbury tonight. Thank you."

She turned on her heel, freezing midstep as Moody cleared his throat. "The maps, Granger."

With a tight jaw, she turned, pulling handfuls of scrolls out and depositing them on his desk. The last three months of her life, now in the hands of Mad-Eye Moody; a payment she'd happily make if it meant she had a hands-on chance of finding Malfoy alive.

"Get some rest, Granger. I expect you here oh-seven-hundred hours to debrief and go over these maps with the rest of the officers."

"Yes, _Sir_." Hermione left, her right hand pumping into a fist as she descended the stairs and marched from Bristol house.

XXXXX

The names scratched on the blackboard had grown. Three months ago, it had been just Mclaggen and Malfoy. Now, there were half a dozen. Most of them she didn't recognize; some of them, like Anthony Goldstein, hurt her more than she would have anticipated. But even as her eyes scraped over the mess of names, her gaze kept catching over one.

M.I.A.

_D. Malfoy_

Well, not for long, if she had anything to say about it.

Behind her, the door crashed open and the teams filtered into the kitchen from the back lawn. Each one looked leaner than they'd been before Christmas, their shoulders sagging from carrying far too many burdens. She awaited the inevitable.

"Hermione?" _Luna_.

Turning, her eyes tight and her lips pressed together, she offered a sideways smile at her friends, all bearing the same wordless expression that Trueman had. Her gaze locked on Theo, standing near the back with a smudge of dirt on his cheek and a terrified pinch to his features. Quickly, she looked elsewhere.

"Yep." She shrugged. "I'm back."

Luna's slender arms wrapped around her tightly, followed by Ginny who layered her hug on top of the blonde's. One by one, her friends hovered around her, speechless. Only Theo fell back, his hands shoved in his pockets as he stared at her in quiet disbelief. Looking back from over Luna's head, she tried to smile, ignoring the wayward tear that slipped down her cheek. His lashes fluttered once and he returned the smile before turning and making his way back towards the porch.

"Let's have a drink," Seamus called. "We all need one after the night we've had, and Hermione, you look like one wouldn't hurt." The corner of his mouth curled in that very Seamus type of way and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle, a sound so foreign to her now she wasn't even sure it was hers.

"You look like shite too, Seamus."

"Oy!" He clutched at his chest in faux horror before taking a few staggering steps back. "I'll get the fire going," he said with a smirk. "Glad to have you back, Granger."

Hermione flinched at the use of her surname; it felt all too familiar and threatened to open the floodgates to memories she preferred to keep very much locked away.

"Sounds good," was all she could manage in return and the group of them bloomed to life, shouting questions at Hermione as she stared out the back window at the hunched shoulders of Theodore Nott.

XXXXX

As much as possible, Hermione stayed quiet as her friends filled her in on the ups and downs of the past few months, humming and nodding in agreement when necessary. She hadn't yet asked how Harry and Ron were doing, and she presumed they were at Grimmauld, but no one brought it up. Maybe they figured that she'd have gone there first. Maybe she should have.

With the nail of her thumb, she scraped away the label on her beer bottle as she nodded along to Dean's rendition of the more harrowing missions of late: a midnight storming of an estate in Sussex; a skirmish in Derbyshire; not to mention the snatchers that nearly stumbled across Surrey house but, due to her impeccable warding, had been confounded until they were ambling back the way they came.

After what she deemed long enough, Hermione stood and rubbed her hands on her denims, placing her half-drank, lukewarm beer on the ground. "I'm actually quite knackered. Where's a good place for me?"

"We've got a spare bunk in ours," Ginny offered with a smile, slipping a glance in Lavender's direction.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she stepped over the log and nearly into Theo. "Brilliant. Which one was it again?"

"Theo!" Seamus slurred, his cheeks pink with the midnight chill and whisky. "Wondered when you'd stop your lurking."

"I can show you up, Hermione," Theo offered quietly, and even in shadows of the bonfire, she could see a faint blush on his cheeks. Ginny grimaced, returning her apologetic stare. Hermione gulped, lips pursing slightly as if she'd sucked a lemon.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she sucked a harsh breath in through her nose.

Because, _of course_ , he'd offer. There was nothing much wrong with Theo, but he was a visible reminder of the memories that she kept tucked neatly away, visiting them only when absolutely necessary.

She shrugged her reluctant agreement, although she felt like brick by brick, new weight was added to her shoulders. Hermione offered a half-hearted smile over her shoulder to her friends still around the fire as she retreated back towards the dimly lit house. Without much thought, she began rubbing the pendant hanging around her neck, trying to quell the anxiety thrumming constantly under her skin.

They climbed the stairs in silence, stopping at a room near the end of the hall, and Theo stepped aside to allow her entry. Her lips pulled into a flat line as she stepped over the threshold, taking in the two sets of bunk beds, well-loved quilts tucked neatly under the mattresses. Theo whispered a _Lumos_ , and the room slowly filled with dim, yellow light.

She set her bag down and plopped down on the edge of the bed that looked to be unused, tucking her hands between her thighs as she stared at the floorboards.

There was a long moment of silence that Hermione wished would never end. If it ended, then it probably meant they were going to talk about—

"I'm sorry." There it was. The bubble burst. "I should have been there more for you after Dra—"

"Don't be silly, Theo. He's your best friend. I didn't expect you to be anything for me."

"Yeah," he chuckled darkly. "Well, Draco would've expected it of me. So I should have. I let you both down but it was just…"

"Too hard?" she offered with a half-smile, pulling on her fingers just to keep her mind from wandering too much.

Theo released a tight breath and nodded. "Yeah. Exactly that."

"Have there been any leads with regards to Malfoy?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer but unwilling to accept it.

"A few camps that we think are holding prisoners; still working on finding their exact locations. They're pretty heavily warded."

Hermione nodded as she listened, ignoring the disappointment welling in her chest as new tears prickled at the backs of her eyes.

"You called him Malfoy."

"Hmm?"

"Malfoy. You said Malfoy, not Draco. Which, I suppose wouldn't be that weird, since you called him Malfoy most of your life, but he was pretty ecstatic at the end when you dropped the surname." Theo grinned and Hermione tried her best not to break down. She remembered that night, the night he'd told her he loved her.

"It's easier—for him to be Malfoy. _Draco_ brings up too many memories, and if I want a chance at putting one foot in front of the other, I can't think about those. They suffocate me," Hermione confessed, letting out a shaky breath and praying to whatever God was listening that Theo would end this torturous exchange.

"I understand. I'll let you get some sleep—let me know if you need me."

"Thanks, Theo," she said, her gaze finally rising to meet his. He turned to leave and something tugged inside her, maybe one of those memories from before when things were a bit easier. "Theo?"

He hummed a response as he passed midstep to look over his shoulder.

"It's just good to see you. I'm glad you're alright."

"Same to you, Hermione." His lips pulled up into a lopsided smirk that felt foreign and familiar all at once. She fell asleep under the blanket of a Silencing Charm, her tears a constant companion.

XXXXX

**A/N: Here's another chapter, lovies. Thanks for reading along!**

**Alpha Love: MCal**

**Beta Babe: InDreams**


	19. Nineteen

By the time Hermione finished poring over the details of each parchment, which were clearly written out already, she left Bristol house with a pounding headache. Maybe it was something about being in the sheer vicinity of Alastor Moody, but the man grated her to no end.

As she descended the stairs from the war room, she heard Remus call her name from behind and she paused mid-step.

"I haven't got to officially welcome you back," he said with a smile, joining her as they made their way into the foyer. "As you know, I'm now working with Thunderbird. So—" He clapped his hands loudly and then rubbed them together as his nose crinkled. "You will, for lack of a better term, be taking up Anthony's spot on the team. Unfortunately, there isn't much time for you to get your feet wet; we have a rather intensive mission coming up in the next few days. We'll have a briefing tonight and a refresher tomorrow. Between now and then, make sure you're working on your offensive and defensive magic."

There it was; that surge of renewed purpose she craved. "Where are we going?"

Remus gave a meaningful look over Hermione's shoulder, acknowledging someone with a nod. "We'll go over it during the brief. I have to go for now but I'll be back tonight at twenty hundred; we'll discuss everything with the rest of your team. Meet up with Theo—"

Hermione's mouth ran dry. "Theo?"

Remus moved to take a quick step past her, placing his palm on her shoulder with the briefest of nods. "Anthony was Theo's field partner—therefore, yours. He'll get you set up with everything you need in your field pack and they should be scrimmaging this afternoon. I'll see you tonight, Hermione."

Without another word, Remus left her standing with a gaping jaw and an uncomfortable twist deep in her belly.

XXXXX

At Canterbury, Hermione felt weak as she stepped through the back door. There was so much life bustling around the kitchen, familiar sounds that now felt strange. Her friends had simply… kept moving on. She'd disappeared, no one knew where she'd gone or if she would return, and yet, their lives kept moving forward.

It hadn't been that way for her. At least, not in the ways that mattered. Not in her grief. Malfoy's disappearance felt as fresh as the day he was taken and it stung that she seemed to be the only one wallowing in this pit of despair. Something about misery loving company… and all that.

One of the twins—it was hard to tell which at this angle—had the other in a fierce headlock as they struggled and wrestled playfully near the alcove by the window. Luna was humming as she cut up a basket of vegetables and added it to a pot simmering on the stove. She could hear Seamus and Dean's laughter trickling in from the other room. The contrast from the night before was eerie; how could they turn it off? How could they walk through those doors and seem so untouched by the ravages of war? More importantly, how could she learn how to do the same?

"Hermione!" Luna crooned with a soft smile as she noticed her lingering in the doorway. "Back so soon?"

A wry smile curled up Hermione's face as she moved towards the counter. "You wouldn't say 'so soon' if you'd been in there. Feels like I lost at least a year of my life."

"Well, glad you're back at any rate. We have training after lunch but—" Luna grimaced slightly before continuing in a hushed voice. "Harry and Ron are here… in the sunroom. They're—well, as you can imagine they're a bit cross you returned without letting them know. I'd want the warning if it were me walking into it."

Hermione chuckled and straightened her spine. "Thank you, Luna. They're nothing I can't handle."

"Now _that_ I do believe," Luna said with a resounding nod and returned to her busy work. "See you for training."

A frame fell off the wall as the twins barreled into it and Luna rolled her eyes, sliding her wand from where it was tucked behind her ear and restoring it, ignoring the two wizards fighting altogether.

Hermione made her way towards the front of the house, the floors creaking under each step, and when she rounded the corner to the front room she nearly barked out a laugh. There, bathed in fresh afternoon light from the giant windows that bounced off the buttercream-colored walls, were Harry and Ron. They sat in floral high-backed chairs, their features pulled tight and their fingers steepled in an attempt to intimidate her. The juxtaposition of her two friends in such an overtly feminine setting, trying to chastise her, was just too much. She folded her lips in just to keep from laughing as she took a seat on the chaise facing the window.

"Hello," she greeted simply, tucking one leg under her. Harry and Ron shared an incredulous look, no doubt floored by her lack of chagrin, before turning back to her. "To be fair," she said, lifting her hands in defense, "I told you not to worry _and_ that I'd be back."

"Have you lost your mind?" Ron said in a low dangerous voice. "Your boyfriend goes missing—"

"Don't talk about him," Hermione interjected quickly, her lips forming a tight pout.

"—And then you just up and disappear? No more than a 'Hey guys! Out for hols, be back soon!'" Hermione attempted to reign in the withering of her features as he spoke but Ron always did have a flair for the dramatics.

"And what about our Patronuses?" Harry gaped. "It's not like you didn't have a way to communicate for crying out loud. It takes a lick of magic for you to let us know you're not rotting in a ditch somewhere!"

"Listen, I didn't—" Hermione's eyes squeezed shut as a flood of memories slammed into her consciousness. "I couldn't cast one, alright? I tried several times, but I haven't been able to… since. And, yes, in hindsight it was rather thoughtless of me not to communicate more but I just—" Her throat constricted with hot emotion and she blinked away the impending tears. "I couldn't." She stared down at her fingers, picking idly at her nail beds just for something to do and she could feel at least some of the tension dissipate in the room.

"You can't do that again, Hermione," Harry said softly. "We have to stick together—no matter what."

Hermione flinched. "Well, about that… I'm taking up Anthony Goldstein's spot on Team One. I'll be in the field with everyone else, and in my free time, whatever I can do to help with the Horcruxes, of course, I'm all yours. But I've got to keep moving forward."

"Hermione—" Ron started, but the rest of his words died on his tongue when Harry looked his way.

"I get it, Hermione. I'd be out there with you all too if I could," Harry supplied before a grin broke out. "We have some rather good news."

Hermione snorted, although she didn't mean to. It was just… what kind of news could be considered good anymore? Had Voldemort died? Did they find the Resurrection Stone and all those they had lost could now come back? All she could manage in return was a mumbled, "Yeah?"

Both Harry and Ron brightened then and Hermione's brow furrowed in genuine curiosity.

"We found the Sword of Gryffindor."

XXXXX

The two teams had gathered on the back lawn, seemingly waiting for her. As when she stomped down the stairs she felt dozens of eyes on her and a quiet slipped through the air.

"There you are!" Dean called, tossing a purple bandana her way. Of course, she was not prepared for him throwing it in the first place so it promptly slapped her in the face and fell to the ground. Hermione's features flattened briefly in his direction before bending to pick it up.

"What's this for?" she asked, watching her friends tie bandanas around various body parts; forehead, thigh, and bicep seemed to be the favorites. Half wore purple and the others bright yellow.

"We figured since it's your first time joining us outside for drills that we should bring out a team favorite. Thunderbird is purple, that's you." George pointed towards the cluster of her teammates. "Phoenix is yellow."

Fred took a step forward, his lips curling in a devious smile. "You'll be looking for these." In the ground, he stabbed two flags, one matching each team. "Crossing enemy lines today, Granger. Your objective is to get into our zone and retrieve our flag. You'll need to bring it back to the enchanted ring at your base. Game over."

Hermione shrugged, tying the bandana around her thigh and pulling her hair up into a wild mess at her crown. "Sounds easy enough." The twins shared a wicked smirk between them and then held out the purple flag to Hermione.

"See you out there!" Fred grinned.

George winked and grabbed hold of the yellow flag. "Yeah, see you out there." The Phoenix Team quickly Disapparated one by one; the sound reminded of her making popcorn with her mum.

"When did you lot come up with the cool nicknames?" Hermione said jokingly as she turned back towards the rest of the Thunderbirds.

"It got a little easier and more covert," Ginny said offhandedly. "What did Remus say earlier as far as training?"

Hermione's gaze shot up to Theo, his bandana secured around his hairline and a serious set to his jaw. "I'm to take Anthony's place. Theo, you're supposed to show me the ropes, I guess." Her shoulders rose and fell in a defeated little huff and an uncomfortable tension settled through the group as they all fell to the side and made room for her to join Theo.

"Right." He cleared his throat. "Let's get to the base and I'll go over the general rules; mostly just follow my lead—" At that, Hermione rolled her eyes and she was surprised when Theo chuckled in response. "Right. Well, do as best you can."

Theo offered his arm and Hermione stared at it for a moment, perhaps too long, as everyone else took off in quiet pops one by one. "I don't bite," he mumbled. "And I _really_ don't, that's not just one of Draco's cheesy pick-up lines I adopted."

A bright laugh filled the air, and when Hermione realized it was her own, her hand shot up to clamp over her mouth. Heat rose to her cheeks and she blinked a few times in a vain attempt to clear the ghost that had settled between them.

"It's okay. The first few laughs were hard—it gets easier... kind of." It was Theo's turn to shrug, the corner of his mouth curling in a smile. "Let's go. They can't get started without that." He pointed to the flag in Hermione's hand and her blush deepened. Tentatively, she reached out and let her palm rest on the muscle of his forearm, and in an instant they were gone... and then there again.

Hermione sucked in a few harsh breaths, steeling herself from the surge of sensations coursing through her. Side-along Apparition was a strange thing; there was a moment when bodies were so intermingled that it was difficult to know where one person ended and the other began. There was really only one other activity where that was the case.

"'Bout time!" Seamus grumbled. Theo took the flag pole from Hermione's grip and tossed it Seamus' direction, who caught it deftly. He approached a small chalked circle and stabbed it into the ground, and as he did, the flag began glowing. Seamus grinned in their direction. "Game on."

"Okay, so we work as a team," Theo started, stooping to her eye level. As he spoke, Hermione studied him for the first time since her return. It'd only been three months, so nothing was really all that different about him physically. His eyes were still fiercely blue, fringed with thick eyelashes, and he looked almost ridiculous with that bandana tied around his forehead. She noticed idly as he spoke that he'd let his scruff grow out.

"Watch each other's back, light stingers only, and if you're stung— you're out. No exceptions. We take it pretty seriously, especially Seamus and the twins, so watch out for them. Phoenix likes to spread their teams, but they stay close. If you only see one—you can bet you've got someone on your six. Slow and steady on our team. Yeah?"

"Where's their flag?"

His finger lifted, pointing north. "That way about a kilometer, let's go."

Theo took the lead, and Hermione followed closely behind. It wasn't until they were about halfway that a new tension settled over the forest. To her left, she saw Seamus and Dean tucked behind a fallen log, and a few feet ahead—lying on their stomachs in the brush—were Luna and Ginny. Hermione stared at the horizon that they were watching intently and she let out a snort.

"Let's flank them. Go wide round and come up behind it. If we sit and wait, there's no way—"

Theo shook his head in a vain attempt to intercede. "We work as a team—"

Hermione didn't wait for the rest; she was gone, darting to her left and hopping over Seamus and Dean's legs. She heard Theo hiss an expletive behind her, but she didn't wait. Flicking her wand towards a tree on the far right, she sent a loud crack of magic, followed by another, with a fierce hope that it would distract the other team if they were lurking nearby.

She kept as low to the ground as she could, her adrenaline thriving while Theo's heavy step cracked twigs and brush as he ran. There was a whirr to her right, a flash of bright yellow, and she grinned as she cast a few quick stingers in that general direction.

"Granger!" Theo growled, slamming into her back as she came to an abrupt stop behind a wide oak tree.

A grin broke out across her face as she caught her breath, relishing in that familiar thrum of adrenaline under her skin. Theo's hand rested near her head and he panted as he loomed over her. "What the fuck! I told you! Slow and steady—"

"It wasn't working. We go around, sneak up on them, and take it down."

"Granger! Do you think is our first fucking time?"

Her teeth ground together and she stared up at him, her chest heaving. "I told you, don't call me that."

"Yeah, I heard you but that's what we go by in the field, so forgive me if I forget your house rules made in duress due to heartbreak." Theo took a quick step towards her, his chest bumping into her shoulder ``, and she flinched away from his touch. "I told you, this is serious. It's not _just_ a game—this is training. This is a situation we find ourselves in out there."

There was a dangerous flash in his normally kind blue eyes and instead of startling her, it fueled her. With a soft growl, she took off again, ignoring his cursing as she leaped over a small log, taking a wide berth around an invisible playing field she'd imagined in her head.

Past her ear, a stinging hex kissed her curls, and with a grin she leapt for the dirt, rolling easily. Theo joined her, groaning and cursing.

"Are you fucking mad?" he sneered at her.

She chuckled and rolled her head in his direction. "It's kind of fun when you know it's not real, yeah? Trust me," she panted. After all, she'd spent the last twelve weeks skirting Death Eater camps; this little game was the most fun she'd had in months.

Hermione jumped up from her crouched position and cast a _Bombarda_ at a low hanging branch; it crashed to the ground in a heap and several Phoenix members shot up in startled confusion.

Hermione hit each one in a quick succession of stunners, watching with delight as they flinched from her magic. Tearing off in the direction she'd previously been headed, she nearly squealed as she saw the glowing flag to her left. Fred Weasley sat on a log just in front, his wand pointed in her direction but never quite landing on her.

Falling to the ground, she felt the burn of cold air in her lungs and felt her chaos turn to calm. She was her magic and her wand was simply an extension of her arm; quicker than she could make sense of, she was back on her feet. Her wand came down, firing a stinger at the earth in front of Fred's feet, catching his attention, and then landing a second in his shoulder.

Hermione sprinted towards the flag, and when her fingers gripped around its base she finally felt a moment of relief—of purpose—and she Disapparated back towards the base in a plume of cloudy magic.

When her feet landed, her teeth cut painfully into her bottom lip as she slammed the flag into the ground next to the first. There was a strange giddiness working its way through her—she was, _Merlin_ … she was happy.

Several quick pops of Apparition sounded around her, and her proud grin turned towards the noise. Her smile fell as she took in the rest of the Thunderbird team, dirty and disappointed despite their win.

"Why are you lot so sour?" Hermione tilted her chin, ignoring the slight tremor that lingered there. "We just won."

"Yeah," Seamus snorted, stepping forward. "Except we didn't. You broke almost every rule."

"Not likely." Hermione snorted as the rest of Phoenix team Apparated to their base. "Trust me—I've been out there and you can't play by their rules if you're going to survive."

Luna stepped forward, her chin tilted and her gaze almost pitying. "Hermione, I can assure you we get that—we get it more than most. The rules for this particular game are to protect us. Do you realize your partner went down?"

Hermione's gaze flitted to Theo, his purple bandana long gone and a disappointed grimace marring his features.

"He's fine—"

"Yeah, but he might be dead in the field," Seamus said with an angry curl to his lips. "We're a team. We don't work for the glory of one, and if that's what you're after, maybe it's best you head back and reunite the Golden Trio."

Hermione flinched at his words like a lash against her skin.

Her teammates filtered through the trees, leaving her standing there with two flags and a pain burrowing deeply in her chest.

XXXXX

She opted out of dinner. Something about sitting with a table of her friends—half of which were mad because she'd beat them by cheating, the other half just plain mad—didn't sound overly appealing.

Instead, she climbed the stairs, shrugging out of her jumper as she pushed the door open. Her gaze landed on a large cardboard box sitting on her bed, a disheveled, golden-eyed owl perched precariously on the corner. Hermione chuckled; she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him in such a mood… and she had seen him in plenty of those.

"Gofer," she cooed, sitting next to the box and lifting her hand to smooth his feathers. Faster than she could make sense of, his beak clipped her forefinger and she yelped as she drew her hand back towards her chest. " _Gofer_! That was very rude."

He let out a low, disappointed hoot, his wide eyes narrowing as his feathers ruffled.

Realization dawned on her and her jaw fell open slightly. "Are you cross with me?"

Another hoot.

Hermione chuckled and her chin tilted to the side as she fought a smile. "I'm sorry for disappearing, Gofer. It really was quite rude, but you see—" Hermione drew her legs up, hugging them to her chest. "I just needed a little time. Maybe I still do… I'm messing everything up." Fresh hurt settled in the cavern of her chest. She buried her face in the crook of her arm and felt a few traitorous tears slide down her cheeks.

There was a soft scuffle, talons against cardboard, and Gofer's soft feathers nudged her arm, his small body resting against her. She lifted her face, chin resting on her forearm as she smiled at him, the last of her tears making their way down her cheek. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I missed you too."

" _Hoot_."

Gofer nudged her once more and hopped off the box, toppling to the soft mattress before flapping his wings and making for the open window.

Once he was gone, her attention turned to the box on the end of her bed. With little hesitation, she lifted the flap and her eyes caught on the familiar items within. It was the remnants of her time at Surrey house: some of her summer clothes she hadn't packed, a picture of her, Harry, and Ron, arms intertwined as they laughed outside of the Three Broomsticks.

She lifted each item gingerly, refolding them and placing them on the mattress. As she made her way to the bottom of the box, a knot formed at the base of her throat and her lips quivered as she fought off a new round of tears. Emerald green joggers with Slytherin stitched down the side, a handful of white t-shirts, and a few jumpers and trousers.

Her fingers brushed something cool and metal and she pulled the item out from where it was tucked in the corner of the box.

His reading glasses.

They sat in her palm, innocuous in every possible way, yet they were her undoing. Pieces of her that had been haphazardly stitched together fell apart at the seams and Hermione sobbed as her fingers curled around the frames.

There was a delicate balance to Hermione these days and tipping it in a single direction sent everything toppling. She reached into the box, grabbing a white t-shirt and falling to the mattress with her face buried in his barely lingering scent. Tears stained the thin fabric as she sucked in broken breath after broken breath, unable to fill her lungs properly as her sobs echoed off the walls.

She hadn't allowed herself a proper cry, not one like this, in some time, and as she crumbled, she didn't hear the door open. Didn't hear it close again or the steps that crossed the creaking wood floor; didn't feel the dip of the mattress as someone sat on the edge.

She did, however, feel Theo's warm hand rest on her shoulder and the simple reassuring gesture sent her spiraling further. Without proper thought, she pushed to sitting, still clutching Draco's t-shirt and glasses, and she buried herself in Theo's waiting embrace. His arms wound tightly around her, trying in vain to pull the broken pieces back together as she wailed, her tears soaking his t-shirt.

"It's not over yet, Hermione. We'll get him back," he mumbled, his chin resting on the top of her head.

What was meant to be reassuring shattered her further. At some point, she was going to be forced to stop believing that altogether.

XXXXX

**A/N: More endless thanks to you for following me along on this little story! I love hearing your thoughts and I'm so eager for the second part of this story to jump off!** _**EEEP!** _

**Love to my Alpha and Beta: MCal and InDreams. I adore you both so so much!**

**I'm moving this weekend! So I'll hopefully be back to you guys next week with another update.**

**Until next time. -LK**


	20. Twenty

 

The air stunk. There was the familiar scent of Dark Magic lingering, but more so, there was a tangible stench that wafted through the breeze.

"Here." Theo reached into his robes, pulling out an ivory mask twisting with swirling vines and a few blooming flowers near the top. After she took it, her forehead creasing as she held it in her hands, he pulled another from the other side of his cloak.

There was a sinking feeling in her belly as she inspected the two of them side by side. "What's this for?"

"We wear them in the field—"

Bile climbed up her throat and she flinched away from him. "That's a sick joke, Theo." She attempted to shove the mask back into his chest but his hand clamped over hers and he let out a long sigh.

"I knew you were going to be like this—but, Hermione… after Draco went missing we had to do _something_. We were getting targeted in the field and this was the only option."

"Oi! You lot ready?" Seamus and Dean made their way over to them, fixing masks to their faces. It made her stomach roil.

Hermione's mouth ran dry, pressure building up behind her sinuses, and she shook her head. "I can't."

"You can," Theo reassured her in a low voice. "Trust me, it helps. There's something unnerving when they've seen your face." At that, he lifted his own mask to his face and when he looked back at her—his clear blue eyes determined yet kind—she managed to nod.

With shaking hands, she pressed the mask to her face and felt it magically cling to her skin. It was lighter and more breathable than she would have imagined, and when the other three men turned towards the southern edge of the camp, she allowed herself a fortifying breath before joining them.

The briefing earlier had been clear. Their team was to go south to manage the supply tent and the other team went to the northern edge where the Death Eaters at the camp slept. Once that was done, they were to search the area for prisoners for exactly ten minutes before Portkeying out.

This was the closest she'd been to finding Malfoy in months and adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses.

"Remember," Seamus said from behind his mask, "we work as a team. Watch each other's back, Hermione." There was a cutting edge to his voice that Hermione didn't appreciate and she blushed as Theo took the first few steps through the trees.

Hermione could feel the familiar shimmer of a nearby ward, and when they pierced it under the cover of darkness, her eyes shot round as the camp came into view. The clearing was littered with more than a dozen tents all haphazardly circling a raging bonfire in the center.

Magic crackled off her skin as they moved quietly through the darkness, darting behind dimly lit tents, and in the distance, she heard the first sounds of a skirmish. Soon vibrant jets of magic filled the air and shouting could be heard from around the camp.

"Hurry!" Theo hissed over his shoulder.

The stench from earlier escalated the further they got into the camp, and when Theo abruptly halted, she slammed into his back with a huff. Seamus and Dean crouched in the dirt at their backs, their wands trained the way they'd just come as they searched the darkness.

"Theo!" she admonished in a hushed whisper.

"Ready boys?" Theo pointed towards a large tent in front of him, its flap gently blowing in the wind to reveal crate after crate of supplies.

" _Oh_ ," she breathed, taking a step around him. Her gaze darkened as she caught sight of the sheer amount of items in the tent, and she hadn't the foggiest how they were going to get all of it out there and back to camp. The thought died violently as three jets of flames crashed into the side of the tent, lighting it ablaze in a matter of moments. Hermione gasped, ripping her mask from her face and turning back to the boys who were now dropping their wands. "What the hell?"

"Our orders were to torch the supply tent," Dean said, no trace of remorse in his tone.

With a scoff she stepped back towards them, ignoring Theo's quiet call to replace her mask. "We could have—"

Loud crashes of magic sounded from the far side of the camp and Theo grabbed her mask, pressing it onto her face. "Don't take it off again. Let's go, quickly and quietly and always together."

Hermione wanted to grab him by the collar and scream until her throat ran dry but Dean and Seamus took off before she could form a proper thought.

" _Here they are_!" A new voice cut through the air. Fear followed quickly by rage climbed up her throat and she turned from Theo, throwing up a quick _Protego_ before a stream of black-colored magic could pelt against it. Theo fell to his knee, crouching next to her, and threw out a cutting curse, slicing down the Death Eater in front of them.

" _Bombarda_!" The spell hit Dean in the chest and he spiraled through the air as Seamus easily cast an _Avada_ , knocking the Death Eater lifeless with barely an errant thought as he ran back for his friend.

"Dean, ye fuck!" Seamus growled, burrowing in his pocket and unwrapping a sickle from a silk handkerchief. Without touching its surface, he dropped the coin onto Dean's chest and he was gone in a tight swirl of magic; Seamus made his way back towards them with a light jog.

Hermione could feel a sheen of sweat form behind her mask, and coupled with the heat from the flames at her back, she felt ready to engulf in fire herself. "Will he be okay?"

Seamus' green eyes found hers and even in the blackness of the night, she could see the worry etched there. "No clue. Let's go." He took off, Theo and Hermione just a step behind. They lit every tent on fire they passed but Hermione couldn't bring herself to do it, instead she focused only on the path forward.

A strong gust of wind swept through the clearing and the vile stench returned, causing Hermione to gag as they stumbled across the dwindling skirmish. There were three Death Eaters left fighting, their shields protecting them against the Order members pelting them with offensive magic.

Seamus, Theo, and Hermione shared a collective look and nodded. Each one lifted a wand to the back of a Death Eater; Theo and Hermione cast _Incarcerous_ , sending thick coils of rope around their respective Death Eaters, but Seamus cut his down without another thought.

"You three—" Hermione recognized the untied boots and bright purple hair of Tonks and her heart soared at the familiarity. "Go with our team while we interrogate. There's a tent of refugees to the north that need immediate extraction. Get them to HQ and wait there."

Joining the others, they moved as a unit towards a large tent, the smell from earlier magnifying as they approached it.

"Fuck," Seamus growled, covering the lower half of his face with his cloak; Hermione couldn't help but swallow the bile threatening to push past her lips.

In a single line, the small team filtered through the flap and when it was Hermione's turn she felt overcome. By the smell, of course; but more so by the dozens and dozens of filthy humans packed into the tent, shackled to low hanging poles and left in their filth.

Hermione yanked off her mask and finally lost her constitution, wretching into the mud and feces that her boots were sinking into. When she ceased, Theo turned to her, his wand pointed at her mask and suddenly a bubble charm formed around her head.

She mouthed a silent 'thank you' and replaced her mask, pushing through the bubble with little force.

"Right!" She was sure it was Neville speaking now as he turned to take in the group at his back. "Use your emergency Portkeys to get as many out as we can. Gravely injured first, then women and children. We'll Apparate the ones we need to as long as they can walk past the wards.

Theo's fingers wrapped around her wrist and she was tugged to the far side of the tent where a row of maybe eight women and children were tethered together, their wrists bound to a pole in the dirt.

Hermione tried to focus on their faces, tried to see the fear and horror in their eyes… tried to imagine what they'd been through that would make them flinch away from Theo's touch as he comforted them. The whooshing of blood in her ears made it impossible to hear their pleas and her arms stayed frozen at her sides as she scanned the room.

Each face was Malfoy, even though not a single one of them was.

This was how they kept prisoners; this is how they dealt with their filth. Her jaw quivered, eyes clenching shut as she imagined the deplorable conditions he was probably in.

The rest of the team moved quickly; throughout the tent, several clusters of people disappeared. Yet, still, Hermione stood. She couldn't make out the frantic urging of Theo just to fucking _move_ already; she couldn't do more than blink.

Malfoy.

Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. _Draco_.

It was a never-ending mantra in her mind. Everything—everything had been to find a way closer to him, to find a way to right this horrible wrong. But this wasn't right. He'd never felt further away.

Rage swirling with determination swelled and crashed in her chest, and ignoring Theo's pleas, she turned on her boot heel and marched towards the front of the tent. Adjusting her mask on her face, she stepped through the flap; her cloak billowed out behind her like a cloud the squelch of her boots in the mud gave her a strange sense of self-assuredness as she approached the three Death Eaters, wrists bound behind their backs and their knees sinking in the wet earth.

Tonks, as well as the other few senior Order Members, were clustered nearby, speaking in low voices about the future of their captives. Hermione knew with full certainty she was about to be insubordinate; it didn't stop her knee from driving up into the chin of the nearest man on his knees.

A sickening crunch of bone against metal filled the night air and the Order members whipped around just as Hermione's fingers tangled through the faceless man's greasy hair and wrenched his hair back, her wandtip finding a home in the hollow of his throat.

"Granger!" Tonks screamed, taking a few hard steps towards them; her grip on her wand tightened. " _STAND DOWN_!"

There was a feral grumble in the back of Hermione's throat and she felt a piece of her shrivel and die away. Maybe it was a part of her moral conscience… or maybe that part of her that needed to obey and please those she respected. Whatever it was, she left it in the mud at her feet.

"Where is Draco Malfoy?" Even to her own ears, her voice sounded low and dangerous and when it was met with a dry, hollow chuckle, fresh rage bubbled to the surface. Hermione ripped the mask from his face—she recognized him.

Dolohov.

His mouth curled, revealing crooked, yellow teeth that his stubby tongue dragged over before speaking. "Honey, he's long gone."

Something possessed Hermione; her fist clipped the square of his jaw, his face snapping to the side as Tonks let out another scream from behind her. She had moments before she was put in restraints as well.

"Where is he?" she hissed, and when Dolohov's bloodied face turned back to her, he grinned.

"You must be that pretty little cunt he was screaming for down in the racks."

Hermione's lips pulled back in a feral snarl and she gripped his overgrown locks harder, pulling his head back at an unnatural angle. Behind her, she knew the rest of the team was emerging from the tent but she didn't turn, refusing to acknowledge her blatant disregard for everyone else. With a steady hand, she reached up and peeled her mask from her face, tossing it in the mud as she stared down at him.

A new—genuinely amused—laugh bubbled past Dolohov's lips and as it died away, he spit the blood gathering in his mouth at her boots. "Hermione Granger. I would never have guessed—the kid has more ambition than we gave him credit for. Didn't matter in the end, did it?"

His words were an ice pick to her heart and she felt the first crack in its icy exterior. "Where is he?" she repeated, the slightest tremble to her words.

" _Where is he_?" Dolohov mocked, his face screwing up in an ugly smile. "He's dead, Mudblood. I was there as he bled out in the Malfoy dungeon; they _Crucio'd_ his lifeless body just for the hell of it and then we drank his daddy's Firewhisky. You'll never see him again."

The crack in her turned to a quake and everything she'd been so precariously holding onto shattered. Her fingers loosened and she took a horrified step back, shaking her head back and forth as her mind struggled to make sense of his words.

"No," she said simply.

Dolohov spit again, his head lolling back of his own volition as his cohorts next to him rumbled with laughter.

"I assure you, sweetheart, you'll never see his pretty little face again."

Tonks was suddenly at her side, her hand curling around the crook of Hermione's elbow and gently edging her backward.

But what had Trueman told her?

Oh, that's right. _Crack him in the skull next time_.

Hermione ripped her arm from Tonk's grip and with more force than she thought herself capable of, she drove her knee into his nose. He fell in an indelicate heap at her feet.

"Damnit, Hermione," Tonks cursed under her breath. "What the fuck did you just do?"

XXXXX

The briefing following the Refugee camp was… _long_. Not that Hermione was permitted inside; she was seated in a Shame Chair just outside the door as countless people filtered in and out.

Theo didn't glance her way as he entered, his jaw set tight as he stormed past her. Seamus at least had the good graces to offer her a pitying frown as he followed Theo in.

Some two hours later, Remus stepped into the hall, one hand shoved deep in his trouser pocket, the other dragging tiredly down his face. "Come on, then."

The room was fraught with tension, and although she had tried her best to maintain it, the fire in her belly had quieted since the end of the mission. The sun had broken over the horizon and with it, a realization that Malfoy was gone.

The pain was more manageable, she reckoned. It was still heavy, still weighed her down like an anchor tethered to her heart, but it had shifted, too. The waves weren't as rocky, maybe. It didn't pull her in every direction as she fought for breath in the choppy waters. No, the waters were still and she was peacefully sinking into their depths; she readily invited her grief to consume her.

There was an echo of Malfoy's words in the recesses of her mind. _When you have something worth fighting for, you fight_. Well, she'd had that. Hadn't she? Had it and lost it and was now left with an ache in her heart and a shattered soul.

"Sit down, Granger," Moody barked and her lashes fluttered in a few short blinks as her focus settled on the matter at hand. Hermione did as requested, taking the seat offered to her across the table from Moody and Remus; standing behind them were Tonks, Trueman, and O'Malley, each one with a severe turn to their mouth. "Do you care to explain your insubordination?"

Hermione swallowed around the knot forming in her throat and straightened her weary back. She was tired. "Where there any holes in the stories you gained from my teammates you need me to expand on, sir?"

Moody's human eye tightened, his jaw clicking shut. "They weren't able to tell me why you felt the need to attack a bound prisoner and interrogate him without the permission from your commanding officer. Did you think Nymphadora—" Tonks' hand tightened into a fist and her eyes rolled. "—was unable to execute the interrogation?"

"I find _almost_ everyone in this room to be more than capable." Something flashed in Moody's expression, most likely due to the fact that there were only five people in the room other than herself—four of which she had nothing but the utmost respect for.

Tonk's grimaced. "Moody, she's fresh back on. I believe she was acting under duress and that it was an isolated incident. She's not used to how we do things—"

"Both Seamus and Theo testified to the same," Remus added, resting his cheek in his palm and letting out a loud yawn.

Moody's hard gaze fell on her again. "We've a right mind to take you from the field—" Hermione's mouth fell open to protest but Remus interrupted them both.

"However, due to the overwhelming testimony of your teammates, we have decided to allow you a single warning. Don't make us regret it, Hermione. We know you have a lot of heart in this game, but you could have seriously compromised this mission. Work _with_ your team, not against them."

Hermione managed a nod, the whooshing in her ears subsiding to a soft roar during his speech.

"Dismissed," Remus said, his voice quiet and almost sad.

Visions of the flame-engulfed tent sprung to the back of her mind and she leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. "If I may—why did we burn the supplies? It seems like stuff we could have used in the safe houses."

Moody sneered in her general direction but it was Trueman to take the step forward to speak next. "The missions are time sensitive, Hermione. At any given moment, reinforcements could be called in. At those types of camps, you can almost always guarantee there will be prisoners and we take that more seriously than supplies. We can always get more supplies but it's most important to get the living souls out and to safety first."

Hermione's brow flickered and she managed a nod. Why hadn't she thought of that? "Right."

"Get some sleep," Tonks urged, a kind smile pulling at her lips. "Use the Floo here and get back here as soon as you can. The refugees need medical attention and clothing, and then to be Apparated north as soon as possible."

Hermione stepped towards the Floo, and as the green flames engulfed her she caught the final pitying glance of Remus.

When she stepped through the grate at Canterbury house, everything was eerily quiet. Her eyes caught on Theo, sitting with his head buried in his hands at the kitchen table, and as if an invisible force called her, her gaze lifted automatically to the chalkboard.

She shouldn't have been surprised, honestly.

She knew it'd be there.

Still, the endless pit inside her darkened when she read the updated board.

**K.I.A.**

_C. Mclaggen_

_J. Miller_

_U. Rhumber_

_K. Shacklebolt_

_A. Goldstein_

_D. Malfoy_

XXXXX

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading along and I'm sorry for the longer delay between updates! I am finally moved! YAY! It's been a longgg month but I'm hoping to make more time for writing again.**

**I know it seems like Hermione might be very single minded right now, and she is. She's been alone for three months and that shift in her has taken a toll! Don't give up on her, I promise that I just like to make her learn the hard way! But she will learn!**

**I'd also like to take a quick moment to remind my lovely readers that this is a love triangle! I've gotten a few nervous reviews about the Theo aspect! I promise I'll take good care of your tender hearts! (lies.)**

**Alpha Love: MCal**

**Beta Babe: InDreams**

**Thank you both so much for all your love and attention to this story! And thanks to you all for reading! I love hearing your thoughts and would be so grateful for any feedback.**

**Until next time - LK**


	21. Twenty-One

**TRIGGER WARNING: Non-con is referenced/implied in this chapter. It is not a graphic depiction in any way. If you have concerns about proceeding, please PM me!**

XXXXX

The sight at Bristol house was unlike anything she'd ever seen. The foyer was stuffed with bodies, each one covered in a layer of grime and filth, some even cradling a warm bowl of soup as they huddled together.

Hermione's heart twisted in on itself as she stepped over their blanket clad legs and worked her way towards the first familiar face she latched onto. Devin O'Connor was standing in a cluster of other older Aurors, pointing to various groups of refugees as he spoke quietly to them.

It was a long, awkward moment before he noticed her standing next to him and he nearly jumped from his skin at her sudden proximity. " _Fuck!_ " he shouted, flinching away from her. "How long have you been there?"

A surprising, amused huff passed her lips and she shrugged. "Just a moment. What can I do to help?"

His blue eyes flickered with suspicion as he turned to leer down at her properly. In another life, she might have found him attractive, broad-shouldered with auburn hair tied back in a roguish bun. But that life wasn't this life. "Weren't you told to get some sleep?"

Oh, right. _Sleep_. "I did a bit," she lied easily.

O'Connor's withering glare assured her that he didn't buy it for a moment, especially since he'd seen her just an hour before upstairs.

Filling her lungs with a sobering breath, she forced a tight smile on her face. "I'm fine."

"G'on." He jerked his chin towards the back door. "Help the women and children to the tents in the back in groups of four."

"Yes, sir." Her fingers lifted in a little mock salute, and even though his eyes narrowed slightly, she could see the little amused twitch to his lips.

"Off with ya."

Hermione turned to stare at the dozens of men, women, and children gathered around the room and her breath stuck painfully to the sides of her throat. Her gaze caught on a slender woman, possibly not much older than Hermione, with two young children tucked into her side. Her eyes were large and brown, rounded from fear as she took in the room.

Slowly, as if she were approaching a wounded creature, she made her way over. As Hermione knelt down in front of the three of them, they all flinched away, flattening themselves along the wall and clenching their eyes shut. Despair twisted nastily in her belly and she felt her own worries slip away, not for good, but further back where they could be stored until it once again was time to tend to them.

"Hello. You don't have to be afraid of me," Hermione said kindly. "My name's Hermione and I'm here to help you. Can you—" She paused, swallowing around the knot forming low in her throat. "Can you tell me your names?"

The eldest girl's eye peeked open as she clutched the children harder into her sides. "Are you like them?" She jerked her chin beyond Hermione's shoulder. "Are you a witch?"

Hermione's brow creased. _They were Muggles?_

"I am," she replied softly. "But I won't hurt you. We're the good guys."

"Like Glinda?" A small girl with freckles smattered across her cheeks and unruly brown hair piped up, her eyes now wide and hopeful. "Glinda's a good witch."

A small puff of air slipped out and Hermione felt an unfamiliar but genuine smile work its way up her cheeks. "Just like Glinda. Although, I never got myself a pretty dress like hers."

"That's not true—" Hermione jumped at Theo's sudden closeness. He knelt beside her, a soft smirk on his lips as he held out a loaf of bread. "You should have seen her in all her glory during the ball at our school. Her dress was far prettier than anything Glinda might've worn."

She couldn't stop staring at him as he talked in a hushed tone to the group of them; the heat from his arm kissed hers in a way that made her want to shift away, but she didn't.

"I didn't realize you'd noticed what my dress looked like," Hermione admitted with a blush rising to her cheeks.

Theo's eyes left the small girl, who was tearing a hunk of bread away with her teeth. There was a seriousness etched in sapphire eyes that took her by surprise and the corner of his lips twitched. "I would have been the only sod not to notice you." His gaze traveled over the curves of her face, landing briefly on her burgeoning smile and then returned to the three people in front of them. "I'm Theo, and if it's okay, we're going to get you lot to the tents in the back. They'll get you fed and cleaned up and then we will get you to safety. Do you have family we can track down for you?"

The eldest girl, who Hermione realized suddenly was not the children's mother, shook her head firmly, her lips pulling into a tight line.

"Are you a witch, too?" the second child, a frail boy with dirt-stained skin, asked.

Theo chuckled and shook his head. "Close. A wizard. Do you want to see?"

A panic rose in Hermione's chest as both kids nodded. They weren't supposed to do magic in front of Muggles… well, in front of Muggles who didn't know, and these three certainly seemed to know about magic. Theo slipped his wand from its holster and gave a serious look to both children before summoning a bubble the size of a quaffle, and hovering it over his palm.

The kids sat up, giggling with glee and inspecting it with scrutinous expressions. "More, more!" they chanted, and Theo chuckled, casting a stasis charm on it and then bouncing the bubble in his hand a few times before passing it over to them. With gentle taps, they passed it back and forth and Hermione felt an honest grin spread over her features.

Her gaze once again landed on Theo, who was watching them enjoy the simple charm with a smile. He must have felt her stare; when he peeked over his shoulder at Hermione, something flickered across his features, breaking the happy moment and causing both of their features to fall.

"Let's get you three to the tents, yeah?" Hermione and Theo both stood, extending their hands to the three Muggles, pulling them to standing as they hunched and limped after them.

After they'd sent the three of them to the wash house, and Theo explained where to go when they were finished, he then led her to the food tent where they began building a basket of various foods.

"I could have managed," Hermione said idly, grabbing a few apples from a bin and depositing them in the basket. "You didn't need to come to my rescue. I prefer to fend for myself, in case you hadn't noticed."

" _Ah_ , is that so?"

Hermione bristled as he stared down at the basket with a wry smile. "They were a little frightened is all, but I just needed a moment."

"I've absolutely no doubt."

Eyes narrowing in his general direction, she deposited a loaf of bread and some water into the basket and turned on him with her foot jutting out. "Well, now you can be off, then? I'll handle this and get them to the Portkey."

Theo chuckled. "If only it were that simple, Granger. You see, your little stunt has made it abundantly clear to the powers at be that you aren't suited to make decisions on your own. Fun, huh?"

The valley between her brows creased as he continued to meander about the tent. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I get the supreme pleasure of being your babysitter and showing you the ropes. Moody has instructed me that I am stuck to your side for the time being—the man actually threatened me with a sticking charm if I let you out of my sight." Theo let out an indelicate little snort before folding the lid to the basket and stepping out into the early spring morning.

"I don't _need_ a babysitter, Theo," Hermione said through gritted teeth, rounding on him and jabbing her forefinger in the plane of his chest.

A heavy sigh passed his lips and he pinched the bridge of his nose for a long moment before speaking next. "Yeah, well that isn't our call. Just—" Theo stared anywhere but at her, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot as he tried to conjure more words. "Just try and keep your head down for a few days. They'll look past what happened soon enough but not if you keep getting all Gryffindor in their faces. Try and adopt a little cunning in your repertoire. Haven't you heard that saying? You'll catch more horsewing flies with jam than troll piss."

A surprising laugh bubbled up Hermione's throat and she clamped her hand over her mouth to halt any other traitorous happy emotions from following. "That's not the saying," she admonished, with a playful roll of her eyes.

"Whatever, Granger." Theo shrugged, making his way back towards the tent where he'd instructed the three Muggles to meet them.

There was something different about him; he seemed lighter than earlier that morning when his grief was still as fresh as hers. The question was blurted before she could stop it. "You're okay?" Theo halted midstep, fresh tension tightening his posture and his chin dropped to his chest.

"I think I've known a while." He turned, his gaze steady and intently trained on her. "At some point, hoping started to get harder than moving on. He'll always be my best mate, always be the reason I'm standing here. But, I had to say my goodbyes."

Hermione's throat tightened, tears rimming her eyes as she sucked in a few quick, shallow breaths. "I don't know if I'm ready."

Theo's lips pulled down into a sad smile. "Some things are okay to put down simply because they are too heavy to carry anymore." He shrugged. "I couldn't keep carrying him every day."

A broken sob cracked through her and Theo moved quickly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest. He smelled a bit like Draco, had the same tall, lean build, but it wasn't the same. Not even close. Still, her tears stained his shirt and she found herself leeching comfort from him.

Someone cleared their throat and she jumped from his embrace, swiping her fingers across her cheeks to clear the tears. The woman and the two children were standing there, hair dripping wet and fresh clothes hanging from their emaciated bodies.

Hermione offered them a small smile, and with an open palm, gestured towards the final tent.

The five of them each took a seat and Theo slid the basket in their direction before pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill. "We have just a few questions before we get you set up. Is that okay?"

The oldest of the three nodded, and Hermione noticed she was quite pretty, not that such things mattered anymore.

"Can you tell us your names?"

There was a moment of hesitation before she finally nodded. "I'm Layla Morris. These are my brother and sister, Lizzie and Harry."

Hermione grinned down at the little messy-haired boy and warmth flooded her chest. "My very best friend's name is Harry. He's quite the young man, I'm sure you are too?"

"I try," he said, tilting his chin up proudly. A Gryffindor, she could tell already.

"Do you see that woman over there?" Theo pointed down the way to Molly, who was fussing over a small child and wrapping a too-long scarf around its neck; his voice lowered into a conspiring tone. "I know for a _fact_ that she has cookies in her apron. And if you ask her nicely at least three times, she'll give them to you."

Lizzie and Harry looked hopefully at their big sister who acquiesced with a slight roll of her eyes and the two of them took off down the tent, once again the children they were meant to be.

Layla stared after them, her shoulders hunching with unseen weight and when she spoke, her eyes were vacant. "Do you ever wonder how on earth life has gotten so incredibly messed up?"

"Yes," Theo and Hermione spoke in unison, sharing in a private smile before she continued.

"I was just home from uni for the weekend; I wasn't even supposed to come back but it was my dad's birthday and my mum pleaded. I still don't know what happened."

Hermione reached across the table, cradling Layla's hand in hers. The young girl's eyes snapped to Hermione's and a moment passed as Layla's jaw quivered.

"Will you try to tell us about the night you were taken? Any information we can pass on as to why you were targeted, how you were chosen, how they attacked—it could help another family."

"I don't even understand what it is I've seen," Layla laughed darkly, her gaze tightening. "We were sitting there. The twins were in bed and I was talking to my pa about the most recent article I'd written for the uni periodical. Suddenly, the bay window was ripped apart; glass and chunks of wall flew everywhere." Her eyes were still trained where her siblings were finally obtaining their small victory in the form of a chocolate chip cookie each. "Several men in masks stormed the room and that's it. They ripped us from our home."

"And your parents, any reason to suspect they may have known about the magical world?"

"My parents weren't anything special, my father was a journalist, like I was hoping to be. My mother stayed home with us, mostly. We were completely ordinary." Layla shrugged.

"And your parents…" Theo's voice drifted off, his question implied.

"I… I think they're dead. The light struck through my mother and she didn't move after. I don't know about my father, but the way they handled him as they took us from the house makes me think he didn't make it."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Hermione whispered, squeezing Layla's hand in her own.

Theo swallowed, scratching notes on his paper as Layla sobbed, burying her face in her palm. "This is a little bit of a more sensitive question," he said, shifting in his seat. "Do you, or the children, require medical attention or any sort?"

Layla shook her head.

Theo adopted a formal tone as he squared his shoulders to speak next. "If there is a threat of pregnancy, our mediwitch can—" Hermione's heart dropped swiftly into the dark pit of her belly and she felt all at once happy she hadn't made time for breakfast.

With a brisk shake of her head, Layla's spine straightened and she silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Lizzie wasn't touched."

Theo shifted again, the side of his face screwing up. "And—and _you_?"

There was no missing the trembling of Layla's body as she summoned the courage to speak next. "I've had my monthlies since." Her words were meant to cease the conversation and both Theo and Hermione let out a semi-relieved sigh. It was horrific that the question applied to her but at the very least she would not need to live through further trauma.

"You'll be going to a safe house in the north, it's completely protected. They'll tend to you and help you get set up back in the Muggle world, jobs and money, relocation if you need." Theo rolled up the parchment and folded his lips in as he looked back at her. Hermione couldn't help but notice how practiced Theo was at all this; it wasn't his first time. "They'll have some more questions for you there, when you're ready."

"And, we just go back?" Layla scoffed. "After everything we're just meant to assimilate back into life knowing that those freaks are out there ready to kidnap us again and keep us chained up like cattle?" Her voice had taken a hard edge that Hermione hadn't expected and she flinched away from her, withdrawing her hands back into safe territory.

"I'm so very sorry for what you've been through, Layla. We are doing everything we can to stop those monsters from hurting anyone ever again. _I promise_." Theo's gaze dipped to Layla's and Hermione swore she saw a faint blush stain the girl's cheeks. It seemed his attractiveness could cut through even the most tenuous of situations and Hermione almost giggled. "While you're at the safe house, you will have the option to have your memories altered."

At that, Hermione stiffened, her eyes floating back and forth between Theo and Layla.

"We have specialists there that can make it so you never remember the last few months, you and the twins. They'll do everything in the way of filling in the missing time and helping you back into non-magical society."

Something warred behind Layla's toffee-colored eyes and when she lifted her gaze it fell on Hermione. "Would you do it if you were me? Would you forget if you could?"

The question felt like a punch to her kidneys and she felt that the impact had dislodged some of the carefully sequestered emotion inside her. She caught her lip between her teeth, chewing on it and relishing in the distraction of the pain.

She'd thought about it. About being able to forget and move on with her life without the pain and baggage of what she'd been through. But that would mean forgetting all the good times too, all the times that had filled her with overwhelming happiness, all the times that left her doubled over in laughter and gasping for breath in all the right ways.

Hermione swallowed down the sticky emotions clinging to her throat and lifted her chin, averting her gaze to nothing in particular. "You know, I don't think I would. But, this is my world. These are my people. I was born to Mug—" she paused, a shy smile quirking her lips. "To non-magical folk, but this is my home now. So no, I wouldn't forget. Forgetting the bad for me would mean forgetting so much of the good. But you?" Hermione implored, leaning once again across the table and sweeping her hair from her shoulders. "You don't need to know this. These memories will harden you in a way that you shouldn't have to be at our age. As someone once told me..." Her gaze flitted over to Theo briefly before back to Layla. "It's okay to put things down just because they are too heavy to carry. Don't carry this if you don't have to; give those kids a life without _this._ "

A few wayward tears striped down Layla's cheeks and she nodded tightly, rising to her feet and calling for her siblings to rejoin them. "I'll think about it. Thank you both, for everything."

"Sure thing," Theo said, rising to stand; he held his hand out and Layla stared at it for a long moment before wrapping her hand around his. "Take care of yourself and let us know if we can do anything to help you. If you wait around here for a bit longer, they'll be something called a Portkey to take you north. A girl named Luna will help you and you'll have absolutely no doubt who she is because she looks exactly like someone named Luna should look."

They shared a tense laugh and Theo and Layla released their grip on each other. "Alright then. Will I see you again?" she asked, staring at Hermione.

With an unsure smile, she nodded. "I'll try my best. Maybe we can make it up there and see how you lot are settling in."

Theo's hand came down to rest on Hermione's lower back, and although the touch was featherlight it burned through her jumper and caused a flush to rise up to her cheeks. They whispered their final goodbyes and Theo led her back towards the house.

"You didn't do so bad for your first time, Granger." Theo smirked down at her as his hand slid from where he was touching her and reached for the back door.

Her brow creased at the curiousness of his touch. "Well, I didn't do much."

"I'll let you take the lead on the next one." As they stepped through the back door, she noticed remaining dozens of bodies still awaiting help and her heart seized and stuttered in her chest. "Ready?"

Hermione sighed, her shoulders rising and falling dramatically. "I guess if I have to be."

Theo chuckled and rolled his eyes, gesturing for her to lead the way.

XXXXX

Later that evening, Hermione sat soaking in the last of the dreary day, her feet curled underneath her and a blanket draped over her legs.

Draco was gone.

Well, he'd _been_ gone. Draco was dead.

What a ridiculous thing to be. _Dead_. She replayed her conversation with Theo from earlier and thought if it maybe wasn't time to say goodbye to him. But all these months, he had been the force driving her forward. He'd been what called her home in the end. What else was there if not fighting for him?

Then Layla and Lizzie and Harry flashed across her vision and the vice-like tightness around her ribs lightened. There was still a cause worth fighting for, a cause she'd forgotten in her quest to find Draco.

All those people behind her that didn't need vigilante Hermione, they needed the girl she'd been prior to September. She'd been logical and unyielding, persistent and tenacious. She'd been blinded in her need for answers—but no more.

Hot tears slipped over her cheeks and when the back door opened and clattered closed, she wiped them away frantically. Theo's long legs entered her peripheral vision and she sucked in a shaky breath in a vain attempt to regain her composure.

"Hey," she managed after a long minute.

"Hey." Theo fell into the chair next to her on the porch and handed over a dewy bottle of beer, cradling his own in his lap. Hermione stared at it for a long moment, her lidded eyes heavy from fresh tears and sleep deprivation, before she snagged it and tipped it to her lips. She winced a bit as it washed over her tongue; she'd never cared for beer.

Silence stretched on for a few minutes as the dullness of the late afternoon settled into the darkness of night. Tears still threatened to overtake her but she knew it wasn't the time.

Theo cleared his throat, leaning forward to rest on his knees and shoving the sleeves of his jumper up to his elbows. "There'll be a bonfire tonight."

"Yeah?"

Another uncomfortable cough. "Yeah. We do it whenever—" A weight settled unbidden on Hermione's chest and she took another swallow of beer. "Whenever someone dies."

"Right." Her fingers idly found the talisman hanging from her neck, the pad of her thumb tracing the holes in the golden circle as she stared at the tree line. The silence was unbearable, so Hermione quickly changed the subject. "You were really quite wonderful with those refugees today. Will you get in trouble for using magic?"

Theo barked a laugh and sat back, draining his beer. "No, we're encouraged to do so." Curious, Hermione turned in her seat to stare at him, an action she still felt slightly uncomfortable doing. He carded a hand through his dark hair and peeked over at her, a half-smile curling up his lips.

He was indisputably handsome and she remembered the game they'd played on her birthday, remembered how he'd been forced to drink when she asked about his virginity. After all these months at war, she wondered if he would still be forced to drink.

"They've only seen dark magic and to help them..." His head tilted back and forth, trying to think of the phrase. "Bridge the gap? I don't fucking know, it helps them trust us, showing them simple magic like that. Works better with the kids than with the adults, they don't seem overly impressed. I've had more than one of them try to clip my jaw when I showed them an unpoppable bubble."

Hermione surprised herself when a bright ripple of laughter exploded out of her and as she blinked happy tears away from her lashes, she noticed that he was shaking in silent laughter too. His joke wasn't all that funny, but the longer she laughed the more she found she'd missed doing so. She laughed until a stitch formed in her side and she pressed her fingers in her ribs just to try to quell the cramp forming.

"I'm sorry," she panted, tears streaking down her cheeks. "I swear it wasn't that funny."

" _Ouch_ , Granger." Theo clutched at his chest but chuckled in good fun. "I ought to go help Seamus with the firewood. See you out there?"

She nodded, watching him rise and disappear around the side of the house. Her head tipped back against the back of the chair and she let out a sobering breath as the last of her laughter died away.

XXXXX

The bonfire was quiet, missing the shock and despair that had tainted Cormac's; after all, Draco had been gone for so long, most of them had probably considered him dead for months.

She stayed as long as she could, sandwiched between Harry and Ron as a bottle of Ogden's Finest was handed around the circle. They shared stories about him but when it was Theo's turn to speak, she couldn't bear it.

Mouthing her apologies, she slid from the fire, handing the bottle to Ron and escaping back into the house. Canterbury house was quiet, the occupants all swimming in whisky downstairs, and she climbed the creaking steps with a heavy heart.

She slipped into her room and opened her dresser drawer. There, sitting just to the left was a folded pair of emerald green joggers, a white t-shirt, and a pair of reading glasses. Trembling, she lifted the items from the drawer and held them tightly to her chest, allowing herself a final, cathartic cry.

She fell to her knees next to her bed, pulling a small shoebox from underneath it. Laying the items gingerly inside, she collapsed on top of it, sobs racking through her for a few long minutes.

Finally, when she felt she had given all she could, when her body felt weak from the overwhelming grief she'd been shouldering for far too long, she simply stopped. Rising up and placing a hand on the lid of the box, she took a deep breath.

" _Goodbye, Draco."_

XXXXX

**A/N: Thank you all for tuning in for another chapter! I'm not sure I'll get another chapter out this week, but I sure will try! Would love to know your thoughts and I know it's hard right now… but...** _ **trust me.**_ **I got BIG BIG plans! And I can't wait to drag you all along for the ride!**

**Endless love to my Alpha and Beta, MCal and InDreams.**

**Until next time, LK.**


	22. Twenty-Two

  


“Grangerrrr! _Oh, Granger!”_  

Hermione had been successfully avoiding the twins and their mischievous glares all morning. Whatever they’d been tinkering with behind a Disillusionment Charm in the backyard must finally have been completed, because they were standing proudly on the back lawn, their fists jutting into their hips. 

Her shoulders tensed, her hand briefly pausing as she turned the page of her book, but she quickly resumed, ignoring them once again even though they were just outside of the window she was curled up next to. 

“Granger!”

“GRANGER!’

“GRRRANGER!”

“Merlin!” she snapped, slamming her book shut. “ _What?”_

The twins shared a conspiratorial look, their faces screwing up in lopsided smiles before returning to her and shouting through the glass in tandem. “GRANGERRR!”

Hermione’s eyes clenched shut and she tossed the book to her side. With a growl, she shoved on her boots and stomped out the back door. “Why are you bothering me?” she asked, her lips forming a tight frown as her brows inched higher up her forehead. 

“We’ve got a surprise for you,” Fred said, his eyes twinkling with no-good merriment. 

“I tried to talk them out of it,” Theo said from a seat on the porch, and Hermione yelped and jumped away from him. 

“Fuck!” she cursed uncharacteristically; he chuckled in response. 

Theo gestured to the blank landscape of the back lawn, shadowed in the afternoon sun. “This entire thing, just so you know. It wasn’t my idea.”

“But—” George chimed in, “You do agree it’s necessary.” 

“Well, yeah.” Theo shrugged and uncrossed his legs. With a quick hop, he leapt over the railing and landed gracefully in the grass below. 

“Did you three call me out here for the simple pleasure of annoying me?” Hermione huffed out a little breath and crossed her arms squarely in front of her chest. 

The twins wore matching smirks. “Maybe,” they said in unison. Having had quite enough, Hermione turned back for the house, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Wait!” one of them called out, and for some reason unbeknownst to her, she froze. “We really do have something for you.” 

She peeked over her shoulder and saw Theo tugging something from the back pocket of his jeans. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What is it?” 

“A training exercise. Well, it’s not just for you—it’s for you _and_ Theo. So maybe you don’t have to end up in the brig for abandoning him in the trenches.” Fred snorted and nudged his brother with his elbow. 

Theo chuckled under his breath as he took a few steps towards her. In his hands was a green and silver tie and Hermione’s eyes rounded. “What on earth are you three up to?”

“Just a bit of fun, Granger,” George crooned. “You’ll be blindfolded and we’ve set up a—what’s the word, Fred?”

“Fun.”

“Ah, yes. We’ve set up a _fun_ obstacle course for you to work your way through. Theo will instruct you through it and if you mess up, you’ll be hit with a totally harmless jinx—”

“You’re barmy!” Hermione laughed, waving her hands in front of her in a clear dismissal of the idea. When she attempted to back up, Theo’s hand shot out and curled around her wrist lightly. 

“I promise I’ve overseen the operation and nothing they’ve set up is fatal, or even injury-inducing. And,” Theo took a step towards her, lowering his voice but not releasing her wrist. “I think we could use it before the next mission. I know it’s new to you—working in a team. But—”

Hermione couldn’t stand to listen to his explanation of how shitty she was at group activities and cut him off. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. 

Loosening his grip on her wrist, Theo stepped away and without thought she rubbed her thumb over where his touch had lingered. His hand moved to the small of her back, a habit of his, it seemed, and while part of her wanted to knee him in the groin for the audacity of his touch, part of her was grateful for the simplicity of it. So she ignored it wholly, or at least she told herself she did. 

Theo’s lifted his tie to secure it over her eyes and her fingers rested on top of it to keep it secured as he tied it tightly over her curls.“You’ll start here and I’ll be on the other end of the lawn, just listen to my instructions and whatever you do— _whatever you do—_ ignore the twins.” 

“Easy,” she snorted, letting her hands fall to her sides. “Been doing that since I met them.” Theo shook with quiet laughter behind her and she felt his chest bump into her. She found herself becoming quickly annoyed with how very _aware_ she was growing of his presence. She hadn’t been so conscious of another person’s movements since—

Well. It had been a long time. 

“Good luck, Granger.” His breath kissed her curls, sending one of them tickling her cheek, and suddenly, he was gone. 

Hermione had always thought it was a load of buggering shite that when one sense was lessened, the others heightened. Not in the bloody slightest. She felt just as clumsy and uncoordinated as she had when she’d had the use of her eyes. 

Although, there was the soft padding of footsteps around her and then Theo’s voice called out to her from some ways away. “Hermione, take a few steps forward.” 

Hermione’s head canted to the side and if not for the silk tie around her eyes, she’d have narrowed a glare in his direction. “Could you be more specific than a few? That could be two or seven. I could walk straight into a—”

“ _Merlin, fuck,”_ he grumbled and she couldn’t help but chuckle. “Take four steps forward, then.” 

Grinning, her hands flying out to her sides to steady herself, she managed the four steps, keeping them small and the bottoms of her feet close to the grass. 

“Okay, you’re coming up on a series of wires that are about mid-shin height. If you trip the wire, you’ll get whatever delightful punishment these two have in store for that section of wire.”

“Right.” She attempted to exude confidence even though something was tangling in her belly and her fingers came up to touch the air around her. 

“Lift your left leg up.” Hermione obeyed. “Now step forward, wide. Like you’re stepping over a log.” 

With a nervous wince, Hermione attempted it, her legs trembling as she landed on the ball of her foot two feet in front of her. 

“Erm—” Theo sounded unsure and she hoped that annoyance was plain on her face even with the blindfold obscuring a quarter of her features. “So, you’ll want to _swing_ the other leg. Like… swing it wide, like your going to sit on a barstool.”

“Merlin’s beard, Theo. Why on earth would I swing my leg to sit atop a barstool.” Theo chuckled but didn’t defend his choice of words. She kicked off her right foot, swinging it around like he’d said, and landed it further in. There was a tickling of magic near her calf; she’d barely cleared it. 

The obnoxious chuckling from the twins confirmed it. 

“Bring your left foot towards to meet your right. But make sure—”

“ARGH!” Hermione shouted as a bucket of iced water fell over her shoulders and she tensed up, her half-lifted foot slamming back down and tripping her up. She fell to the grass in a floundering heap. 

Three distinct laughs sounded through the air and Hermione slammed her fist into the earth before shoving up to her feet. Her shirt was clinging to her body, gooseflesh spreading along her skin as she growled and whipped her attention back to Theo. 

“Okay… okay,” he said, his laughter dying away. “Take three small steps forward. Good. Now right foot at a forty-five degree angle and step like you’re stepping over a chair. Perfect. Now, have your left follow.” Hermione felt like she’d found a good rhythm; the chill of the water had woken her and enraged her simultaneously, and she was able to follow his instructions perfectly. 

With every choreographed step she took, Theo’s voice was closer. As he instructed her to take another swinging step, she heard first a wicked laugh, then one of the twins shout, “ _On your left, Granger!”_  

Her head whipped to the side and she flinched away from… well, from absolutely nothing at all… and tripped a wire. Theo shouted to ignore them, but it was too late. Thick goo poured over her curls, coating her skin and shoulders, and her hands flew up to hover over her cheeks. 

“Oh my God!” she shrieked, shaking as the gooey gunk fell off her in globs. “What the bloody hell is this?” 

Riotous laughter sounded over her shoulder and she growled. Even Theo’s voice shook with strain, trying to keep from laughing. 

“It’s nothing,” Theo lied. “You’re so close. Two more, yeah?”

Hermione made a whimpering noise as she flung some of the mystery substance off her body but nodded her agreement. 

“Two steps to the right. Shite, make it three; those were too small. Then just push another high step but make sure you duck your—”

For whatever reason, Hermione hadn’t learned yet. She moved before the instruction had been completed and felt her forehead bump against a surprise wire. She nearly froze, only allowing her toes to touch down; nothing happened. 

“Oh, hell yes!” One of the twins hooted and hollered. “I was hoping she’d get this one.” Her brows furrowed, still waiting on the inevitable shoe to drop. 

“Theo?”

“Granger?”

“What’s happening? _Ah_!” A surprised yelp escaped her when something tickled her cheek. She flinched when another one touched her neck, then another right next to it. Within seconds, dozens of feather-light touches dug into her sides, cheeks, and neck. 

Laughter burst from within her as she stood there swatting at the unseen attackers, her stomach tightening as she hunched and fell to her knees. Gleeful cackles made her breathless and she vaguely heard Theo shouting. 

“Granger! They won’t stop until you’re out of the playing field! One last wire.” 

“ _No-no-no_ ,” she guffawed, curling in on herself. 

“Granger! One more then it’s over!” His voice was firm but missing the hard edge it usually did when he was attempting to boss her around, and only when she was terrified she might actually wet herself from laughing too hard did she scramble to her feet. 

She darted straight for his voice, her feet tripping over the final wire and toppling into Theo’s waiting arms. As she barreled into him, knocking him from his feet, they fell in a tangle of arms and legs into the grass. Their laughter died away and he pushed the tie from her eyes. 

Her palms rested on the flat expanse of his chest, and when their gazes locked, something stirred inside her. Her breath hitched painfully and she tensed, but maybe he thought she was curling into him because his fingers pressed firmly into her side as his cool blue stare floated over her features. 

Dozens of feathers floated around them, the remaining evidence of the tickling attack. 

“You did well, Hermione!” Fred called, breaking the dangerous trance that she and Theo had found themselves in. She gulped and blinked a few times as his hold on her lessened. “But you still tripped the last wire.” 

A flood of ice water was tossed on the pair of them, and instinctively, Theo rolled on top of her, bearing the brunt of the attack. Streams of water fell from his hair and over his shoulders as he created a canopy over her and they both erupted into laughter again. 

There was that flicker again, something sparking behind his stare, but before she could name it, he quickly rolled off her and threw his discarded tie at George who was standing there with an empty bucket and a mischievous grin. 

“You knob! She was already out! _And you got me too_!” 

“Ah yes,” Fred crooned, coming up to rest an elbow on his brother’s shoulder. “But you win together—”

“You lose together,” George finished. They shared a cheerful high five and then turned back towards the house, forgetting the elaborate labyrinth of wires entirely. 

With an exhausted huff, Hermione fell on her back. She inspected her arms, covered in a pink iridescent goo and tiny white feathers. Her hair was drenched, as were her clothes, and she was lying suspiciously close to Theo Nott. 

Malfoy threatened to invade the barriers of her mind but she quickly secured him back away. He was gone. 

“Those twins are nothing but trouble,” Theo said derisively. 

Hermione simply chuckled and rolled up to a seated position, wiping at her appendages with a groan. 

“I need a shower.” She rose to stand and turned back to where Theo was still lying in the grass, his hands folded neatly over his chest. “And maybe a fair warning next time if training involves a modern magical tar and feathering?”

Theo’s lips pulled up into a cheeky smirk and he nodded. “Deal.” 

Hermione turned back for the house and for reasons she didn’t understand—or at least refused to acknowledge—she felt a familiar warmth bloom in her belly and a grin threaten to betray her usual brood. 

XXXXX

The night was ice cold. Ripping the mask from her face, little puffs of condensed breath materialized in front of her face as her back pressed hard into the thick bark of a tree. Somewhere, the plan had gone devastatingly wrong. She’d rolled when they’d ducked, or she’d zigged when they’d zagged. 

Regardless, she was horribly alone and behind enemy lines. 

Hermione in no way pretended to understand the inner mechanisms of war. She was no master strategist or battle-hardened warrior. But she knew when she was being offered up as bait. Both Thunderclaw and Phoenix teams had been sent to the front of the fortress to _‘launch the first assault’_ while the rest of the teams were flanking the rear. 

They were bait. 

The tingle of Dark Magic and death prickled against her skin, and she clenched the lids of her eyes shut, desperate for a clue as to where the rest of her team was. The fortress was still some ways ahead, and if everything had gone as planned, they should be nearing the front ward. 

But her gut twisted and churned with dread as she tried to plot her way forward. The best bet was to run, that much was certain. Stowing her mask in her robes and clutching her wand until her knuckles were weary and white, she sucked in a fortifying breath and counted down from three. 

Three…

Two…

_One…_

Without taking a moment to think further, she tore away from the tree and focused her eyes on the clearing barely visible through the forest. She tried to imagine she was back in the trees at Canterbury, playing Capture the Flag with her friends. 

That’s all this was. 

She darted over a fallen tree, a branch catching in her curls; she batted at it wildly, even after it had released her from its claws. Two _cracks_ of Apparition sliced through the quiet and she felt her heart clamber up her throat, constricting with every step. 

Managing a wayward glance over her shoulder, the toe of her boot caught on the low brush and she toppled into a heap with a loud grunt to the leaves below. Her head slammed into the sharp edge of a covered rock.

 “ _Fuck_ ,” she cursed, her hand flying up to cradle the wound where fresh blood was trickling down her cheek. Bright lights obscured her vision and she blinked a few times in a vain attempt to banish them. 

Her back hunched as she rested her face in her palm, a searing headache forming at the top of her skull, and all she could hear was the blood _whooshing_ in her ears. _Oh,_ she thought. _My wand._ One hand left her face and started patting the earth, the leaves crunching under her palm as she searched. 

Absently, she registered the frantic hooting of an owl. It was nearing incessant and just when she was about to search it out, something else garnered her attention. 

“Well, well, well…” An unfamiliar voice sent a jolt of adrenaline through her and every synapse in her brain fired away, freeing her from the shock of her injury. She hurried, her hands scurrying over the ground, but the blood from her forehead dripped over her left eyelid and a soft whimper escaped her. 

That whimper turned to a sob as rough fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her hard to her feet. “ _Aargh!”_ Hermione screamed as loud as she could, her heels kicking back towards the bastard who was lifting her off from the earth by her scalp. 

Her toes settled back on the earth and the Death Eater who had her in his arms held her close to his body. “Oi! It’s the bitch that got Goyle killed! _Potter’s whore_.”

Another humiliating noise slipped out of her and she wrestled against his grasp. 

“Should we have a little fun with her first? Before we take her in?” another voice called, this one younger and just to her left. 

_Work smarter, not harder._

Hermione stopped fighting, letting her limbs fall loose at her sides and she tried her best to remember the points that Trueman had pointed out on his own body. 

_In most cases, especially with the witches in the group, you will be overpowered by your opponents' strength._

Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed, and she filled her lungs purposefully several times, ignoring the lecherous talk of the two wizards holding her captive. 

_No matter their size, there are points of weakness on everyone’s body. The joints, the eyes, the nose, the groin, the neck, and the diaphragm._

Hermione’s hand curled into a fist and she turned her body away from the Death Eater holding her, anticipating his reaction. He obliged, thankfully, yanking her painfully back against his body. 

_One solid strike to any of those locations and you will render your opponent incapacitated, for at least a few moments._

Taking stock of the brute fanning rancid breath over her cheek, she realized her best bet was going to be a strike to the groin. She’d be fighting nearly blind from there, one eye completely compromised by the blood coating the side of her face; still, it did nothing for the second Death Eater lurking out of view. 

“I don’t fuck with Mudbloods,” the man holding her growled. “You can have her if you want.” The way he said it as if she were an old jumper he no longer cared for, cause rage to swell inside her. 

His hold loosened, ready to shove her away, but before he could she cocked her fist up and bludgeoned his groin. With a strangled grunt, she was free and blinking through the thick layer of blood; she jammed her heel up into his diaphragm. The wheezing noise he made gave her a brief moment of joy but she had no time to celebrate. 

The lurker cast a quick and effortless spell that knocked her hard in the belly and sent her crashing into a tree, rasping for breath as her visioned blackened, her fingers curling in the dirt and leaves.

Rough hands flipped her, his boot heel pressing down on her sternum. She screamed something unintelligible and feral as she stared at the masked figure looming over her, outlined by stars and moonlight. 

“You deal with her. My cock is probably fucking bleeding,” the older Death Eater called, straightening as best he could. He Apparated out without a single word and the other Death Eater lifted his heel and knelt next to her, his long fingers wrapping around her throat and flexing until her airways felt compromised.

Pulling his mask from his face, he thankfully loosened his hold as his crooked grin widened and Hermione felt her stomach roil. 

The soft thrumming of magic to her left let her know that her wand was close… if only she could just reach…

The silhouette of an owl soared low overhead and she remembered the other hoot from just a few minutes before. A _familiar_ hoot. Almost frantic and—

Long talons dug into the shoulder of the Death Eater towering over her and the man screamed as the bird’s beak struck him hard in his neck. 

“ _FUCK!_ What in the actual fuck!” The man attempted to fight the bird off and Hermione caught just enough of a glimpse of her savior. 

_Gofer._

His wings spread wildly at his sides, flapping and slapping the Death Eater in the face, laying a few hard pecks on the top of his skull. 

Theo burst into view, gripping the mop of black hair of the boy still kneeling next to her, wrenching his head back and stabbing the point of his wand into the hollow of his throat. “You fucker,” Theo hissed, his teeth pulled back in a snarl.

Hermione scrambled away, her fingers wrapping around her discarded wand and shoving it in the soft underside of the Death Eater’s jaw. 

There was a flurry of dangerous magic in her gut and the words slipped from her lips. “ _Avada Kedavra_.” A short burst of green light illuminated the boy's throat and he fell limp in Theo’s grasp. 

With a hard shove, the Death Eater fell face-first into the earth and Hermione froze, as she stared at the lifeless body of the man who’d just been about to assault and very likely murder her. Fresh sobs wracked her body as the reality of how close it had been crashed on top of her. Burying her face in her hands, she felt Theo rush to her side, whispering things meant to soothe her as her adrenaline presented itself in violent tremors working through her limbs. 

Pulling Hermione into his side, his arm coiled protectively around her. All she could do was stare at her hands, at the non-existent blood that now stained them. Theo pointed his wand towards the horizon. The muscles of his body tensed and he breathed deeply for a moment before casting. “ _Expecto Patronum!”_

A coiled snake sat, its head perched proudly and tilted in Theo’s direction. “Tell Lupin: I found her. Making the closest jump and will await instructions. One dead, one kilometre west of the jump point.” The snake nodded before dropping its body flat to the earth and slithering away. 

Theo held her tight and she could feel him about to make the jump when her palm rushed to rest over his heart, panic rising up her throat. Right before his magic stole them away, her eyes landed on the golden-eyed, wild-feathered owl perched on a low lying branch, his eyes intent on them. 

XXXXX

They landed, Hermione still resting in Theo’s embrace, and when her cloudy gaze settled on the crooked thatched roof of Surrey house, she tried to scamper away. Theo’s hold on her tightened and his breath fanned over her ear. 

“It’s orders. _I know_. The others will be here soon but the mission—it got fucked. I was sent to find you but things weren’t going well. We were all ordered to make the nearest jump and wait here.”

“We’ll just leave a note.” Panic was evident in her voice. “I can’t stay here, Theo.” 

Theo dragged a hand through his hair and let out a weary sigh. “We can’t disobey orders, Hermione. Not again. Besides, they do this for a reason; it’s for head counts for the board. It won’t be long.” 

A tremble sank into her muscles and Theo’s strong arms wound around her. 

“It won’t be long. Okay?” 

The vice grip on her heart tightened but she managed to nod, disentangling herself from his hold, and they both stood, shoulders pushed back as they stared at the little house overlooking the cliff. 

_Surrey house._

XXXXX

Hermione hadn’t been able to make it into one of the bedrooms; it had been too much. She’d barely managed to wash her face and walk past the bloody room where she’d spent months tangled up with Draco—but sleeping? Well, sleeping was out of the question entirely. 

She’d instead chosen the corner of the sofa and a familiar blanket. When she woke, her back stiff and head throbbing, she blinked a few times. There was noise outside; the teams had returned, but her curious stare landed instead on Theo, leaning back in the opposite corner of the couch, one hand tucked behind his head and lips barely parted as he slept. 

There was a hollow inside her that echoed when she looked at him. She felt drawn to him and she knew without a doubt that she couldn’t give in to whatever it was that felt like tethering her to Theo Nott. 

She did allow herself a brief moment to appreciate him; the lean curve of his bicep that peeked out from his t-shirt, and the way his lashes fanned over his cheekbones. There was no question if he was objectively handsome, as it was quite obvious, but he was more than that; he was unfailingly kind, patient to a fault, and forgiving. Tonight he’d shown himself to be sharp and protective. 

_He’d come for her._

What a strange boy Theo Nott was turning out to be. 

The door opened and crashed against the back wall; Theo jumped up, his wand trained on the door as he blinked himself awake. Seamus’ crooked grin appeared, and behind him over the cliff, Hermione could see day breaking. 

Theo’s hand fell limp at his side. “Well?”

“None dead, all accounted for,” Dean said, nudging Seamus as he pushed through the door. 

Luna appeared next, a bruised shadow marring her creamy skin across her cheekbone, and she took the seat closest Hermione. “Are you alright? You gave us—and Theo—quite the fright.”

Theo snorted. “She’s my field partner.” He stowed his wand in his back pocket and his hands rose high above his head as he stretched the sleep from his limbs. Hermione’s gaze caught on the cut of his hips at the trail of dark brown hair that disappeared into his jeans. 

She gulped, averting her stare towards… well, towards anywhere that wasn’t Theo’s abdomen. Seamus barked out a laugh and both his hands found purchase in Theo’s chest. 

“Sure, mate. Just your field—” Seamus’ words were clearly meant as a punch line, but to a joke, Hermione didn’t get. Theo leveled him with a hard glare and Seamus’ hands rose up in defense. “Merlin’s tit, you used to be so much more fun to take the mickey out of.”

“Fuck off, Finnigan,” Theo said, fixing him with a withering glare. “Can we head back yet?”

“Yeah,” Neville piped in. “Canterbury or bust. Just wanted to make sure you two were okay—”

“Surprised you two didn’t make it all the way to the bedroom,” Seamus tried a final time and Hermione felt a shameful blush rise to her cheeks. Something snapped in Theo and his hand darted out to curl in the thin linen of Seamus’ shirt. 

“I swear to _fuck_ , Finnigan. You open your mouth one more time—” Even Hermione shrunk back at the hard edge to Theo’s threat. When he realized how many eyes were on him, he quickly released Seamus and took a step back, carding an anxious hand through his hair. “Sorry, mate. Long night.” He looked back to Hermione still curled in the corner of the couch and swallowed.

His lips parted to speak, but with the audience silent and waiting around them, he simply huffed and gave her a tight smile before pushing through them and out the door. 

There was an ache in her chest that felt foreign and familiar all at once when the sound of Apparition tore through the room. 

XXXXX

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I apologize for the jarring nature of it. I wanted to showcase their daily life versus the war and I hope it wasn’t too much!**

**I'll be out of town for weekend (Galaxy's Edge + HP World here I come!!) but good news is, I should be finishing the FINAL chapter of Unchained today! **INCOHERENT SCREAMING** So I'll be back next week another update for you! Mwah!**

**Endless thanks to my Alpha Love, MCal and my Beta Babe, InDreams. I adore you both and will smother you kisses at the first opportunity.**

**Until next time. LK.**

 


	23. Twenty-Three

****This chapter after contains borrowed dialogue from the film Pearl Harbor. My intention is in no way to plagiarize and so please don’t accuse me of so doing. I own nothing but the errors.****

 

Theo’s back was pressed against hers, and she swore she could feel the staccato of his heartbeat through his thin shirt. Their breaths matched, falling low and heavy as they scanned the horizon. 

 

“ _ There _ ,” he hissed, jerking his chin towards the setting sun. “Did you see?” 

 

“Yes,” she whispered back, bringing her wand up and pointing it at nothing in particular. “I’ve got your six.” 

 

“Yeah, right.” Theo snorted with an obscene roll of his eyes. “Like I’d trust a Gryffindor to watch my back.”

 

Hermione’s brow puckered and she turned seriously, catching his gaze. “You can trust me.” 

 

Theo studied her intently for a moment, his brows low as his eyes roved her face. Finally, he nodded and took off, leaping over a log they’d been crouched behind, and Hermione remained, her wand steady. A red burst shot from behind a tree, narrowly skimming Theo’s back, and she cursed, shooting a succession of stunners from her hiding spot. 

 

Slamming his back into a tree, Theo’s gaze found hers. “ _ GRANGER! NOW!  _ I’ve got eyes on the bird!”

 

Hermione tore off, her feet crunching in the brush as she pivoted off a tree and ducked into a neat roll. Two bursts of magic came her way and Theo retaliated on her behalf, a smile playing on his lips as she worked her way through the trees and leapt for the colored flag, ripping it from its home. 

 

Landing flat on her back, her breath leaving her in a small  _ huff, _ she couldn’t help the smile that worked its way over her features. Groans mixed with elated hoots and hollers filled the air and Hermione jumped to her feet, waving the yellow flag over her head and shouting back at her teammates. 

 

Theo was on her, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her in a bone-crushing hug. Her bright peals of laughter vibrated against his neck as she hugged him back fiercely. When he set her down, their gazes caught, both blazing with unbridled glee as his hands curled around her elbows, and there it was again. That blasted churn in her belly that she despised and craved all at once. 

 

“That’s a girl, ‘ermione!” Seamus shouted, slapping her on the back with a hard palm and breaking the moment. “Teamwork makes the dream work! Next time, I’m the runner though.” 

 

“You’re fat and slow, mate.” Dean shrugged and Seamus’s face turned beet red. He slapped his friend's long torso with the back of his hand. “Am not. I’m an Irishman; I’m thick and burly and faster than a fucking mongoose. So shut it.” 

 

Hermione chuckled and shook her head. “Beat me in a lap around Bristol and you can be the runner, yeah?” 

 

“I’m starved,” Ginny whined. “This round was too long. Let’s head back.” 

 

Hermione allowed herself a moment, looking around at the group of them littering the space between the trees, and although she knew she’d always miss seeing that one particular face, she felt as though a fog had finally lifted. She was coming back. 

 

XXXXX

 

“Hey.” Theo interrupted her reverie as she leaned back against the wide trunk of an old oak tree down near the pond. 

 

Gulping, Hermione straightened her spine, offering him a tight smile and closing the book she hadn’t been able to concentrate on. “Hey.”

 

Collapsing elegantly in the grass next to her, Theo began pulling blades free and tossing them carelessly to the side. “Nice day.”

 

“Yeah,” Hermione breathed. They hadn’t really spoken since the incident in the forest and now that the opportunity presented itself, she found herself wracked with nerves. 

 

“I just wanted to check on you,” Theo said, staring out at the lake. “I’m not sure what happened to you when you were out on your own, if you’d ever…  _ Avada’d _ before.”

 

The corner of her mouth quirked as she thought about the female near Derbyshire who’d tried to slit her throat, the one she’d ended up killing with a  _ Bombarda  _ into a nearby tree. She’d her left cold in the forest; she’d cried herself to sleep that night. And the fat man in Wales who she’d quieted with a cutting curse before he could call for backup. That man in the woods wasn’t the first she’d killed, wouldn’t be the last either. But she’d never felt the tangle of black magic in her belly like when she had in the forest the other night. Her very first killing curse.  

 

“Thank you for checking. I don’t think it’ll ever get easier but… something changed in me after,” she paused to clear her throat. “After Malfoy. His disappearance— _ his death _ ,” she clarified. “I don’t know. I just know I’m not the girl I was before.”

 

“Well, I like them both.” Theo turned to her with a gleaming grin. “The Hermione before and the Hermione now, that is. She’s a little more devil-may-care now, but she’s a bad witch with a mean hook and a quick cast.” She smiled brightly back at him and as she did, something flickered across his features. His gaze fell back to the lake, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. “I’m glad you’re my partner. Even if you do get a little too Gryffindor for my liking.” 

 

Hermione barked out a laugh and swatted playfully at him. “ _ Me? _ Theo Nott, your Patronus is a  _ snake. _ Don’t you think that’s a bit on the nose?” The tension of the moment dissipated and she leaned back on the trunk of the tree, curling her legs under her. 

 

With a snort, Theo fell back into the grass, folding his hands behind his head and staring up at the clear blue sky with a smirk. “I’ll have you know that Black Mambas are the world’s most  _ lethal _ snake. Did you know that?  _ Lethal. _ They are also the fastest and fiercely protective of what they consider theirs. Snakes are badass, Granger.”

 

A girlish laugh bubbled from inside her and she rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Theo.” 

 

XXXXX

 

“Oi! Did you two have the hankies for the groomsmen?” Ron peeked into the sitting room where Ginny and Hermione were twining wildflowers from behind Canterbury house together in makeshift bouquets. 

 

Neither one of them answered and Ron’s hands lifted wildly, gesturing at them crudely before stepping fully into the room and stomping his foot like a petulant child. “Uh,  _ hello _ . Earth to you two! Have you seen the hankies for the groomsmen?”

 

“Ron, piss off,” Ginny said in a brusque tone, her eyes rolling as she wrapped a hankie around the stems of her flowers and tied a cord tightly there to keep it in place. “We’re busy. I can’t handle your nonsense.” 

 

Hermione chuckled, placing her finished bouquet in a small vase near the window. 

 

Ron’s slow gaze widened as he stared at the line of vases, each one housing a small handful of wildflowers adorned with a vintage handkerchief. “The bloody fuck! Those are for the groomsmen! Bill’s gonna have my arse!” 

 

“Well, they look better here,” Ginny shrugged. “Tell Bill to suck it.” 

 

There a beat of a moment before Ron gaped at his baby sister, his eyes rounding and bulging from his head. “Tell the  _ groom _ that his baby sister made an executive decision about his family heirloom and that he ought to suck it? You’re barmy—give me those.” He took a step towards the window and Hermione jumped to her feet, her hands coming up to defend their hard work. 

 

Ron took a quick step to the left and Hermione matched it. Brows furrowing, he tried to the right only to have Hermione yet again meet his step. A wicked grin worked up on his features and he took two steps, juked her, and then spun around her, reaching the windowsill and putting his fat hands on her most recently completed bouquet. 

 

“Ronald!” Ginny shrieked and Hermione darted under his arm for them. Ron barked a laugh and bent down to scoop Hermione up and over his broad shoulder, her arse going straight up in the air and her feet kicking wildly. 

 

“Put me down, you oaf!” 

 

“Not nice, Hermione.” One hand reached up to tickle her side and she erupted into laughs; Ginny charged them, ready to take her brother down. He made a quick sidestep and then caught her around the neck, dragging her down until she was bent over and in a headlock at his waist. 

 

“Aha! Ron wins!” he cheered, having one girl over his shoulder and another locked under his elbow. “Victory!” 

 

Bill peeked in, noticing the flailing girls and Ron’s cheshire grin, and his eyes narrowed into slits. “What the bloody hell are you doing, Ron? The rehearsal’s about to start—where are the hankies? And why in the fuck are you harassing our baby sister and Hermione?”

 

Ron sobered, his spine straightening even though he didn’t release them. “They stole the hankies, Billy. I was just working on retrieving them.” 

 

“I don’t give a bloody fuck about those hankies! Get your arses outside, the lot of you! Fleur or Mum is gonna have your heads and I’m not sure which one is more dangerous.” Bill disappeared, leaving his youngest brother gaping at the empty door. 

 

With a huff, he released Ginny and then bent to put Hermione down on her feet. “Well, I guess never mind. Sorry girls.” Ron shrugged and made for the door. Hermione and Ginny, both still panting from the wrestling, shared a conspiratorial look, and before he made it to the kitchen, they lunged at him, tackling him to the floor in a fit of giggles and soft punches. 

 

XXXXX

 

“How’s the wine?” Harry asked, falling into the garden seat next to her and resting his arm across the back. 

 

Hermione grinned, her head swimming after three glasses. She’d had to sit through a Weasley wedding rehearsal: she was due. “I wouldn’t know if it was good, would I? It’s doing the trick.” 

 

Nodding, Harry threw his ankle over his knee and settled further in, staring out at the unruly garden with a tight expression. “How have you been? We never see you.” 

 

This was perhaps not the best state to discuss such things, and so to combat it all she took another long swig of wine. “I’m alright—almost good sometimes. It’s getting better.” 

 

“We could use you, you know—with the Horcruxes.” His voice was tight and pained. The loss of Draco had meant the loss of a part of Hermione; she wasn’t sure she’d ever get that bit of her back. And her only way of reconciling that loss was to keep the fire pumping in her blood and her wand in hand. 

 

“I’m sorry.” It was all she could manage. “I wish I could be there for you, I know you need me. I feel like I’m always failing you and you’re the last person to deserve it.” 

 

Harry snorted, his hand wrapping around her shoulder and dragging her into the crook under his arm. “You’ve never failed me—but you continue to surprise me, that’s for sure.” 

 

Wiping her cheeks from the stray tears sliding down her cheeks, she chuckled. “How so this time?” 

 

“You and Theo?” Harry said gently and she stiffened, her gaze darkening on the horizon. 

 

“He’s my partner.” 

 

“Yeah?” His voice was drenched with unspoken questions and they tightened around her heart like a vice. 

 

“ _ Yeah. _ ” 

 

Dragging in a shaky breath, Harry tightened his hold on her. “Cause—and I know it’s not my place—but it’d be alright if there were more. You’re allowed to move on, Hermione.”

 

There were a million things she could say: excuses and defenses and lies that she’d convince herself would make her feel better. She stayed silent. 

 

“I’m the last person to pretend I knew or understood Malfoy. But I do think he cared about you.” The pain rippled through her, fresh and unbidden, and she wanted to grab it around the throat and shove it back inside its box where it belonged. Harry’s chin rested on the top of her head and he placed a chaste kiss to the top of her curls. “You deserve to be happy, Hermione.” 

 

A soft sob cracked through her but she nodded as she curled deeper into her friend’s embrace. 

 

They stayed there for a while longer as she pondered the ridiculousness of not only falling in love during war—but the utter preposterousness of perhaps doing it twice.

 

What a stupid witch she was turning out to be. 

 

XXXXX

 

Hermione was laid out flat over her mattress, an arm draped dramatically across her eyes as she levied an exasperated sigh. “It’s just silly. I don’t want to wear—”

 

“You’re wearing it,” Ginny cut her off with a firm tone that sounded so identical to Molly Weasley that it brought a smile to Hermione’s lips. “It’s a wedding.” 

 

Flopping her arm out on the mattress, she sucked on her tongue and canted her head back and forth a few times. “I mean,  _ technically. _ But really, it’s a small party in your backyard. Is that  _ really _ dress worthy?” 

 

Ginny turned, her navy dress swirling around her calves and her fiery hair whipping around her shoulders. “Hermione Granger, you put that dress on and get your adorable arse over here so I can fix your head.” 

 

Hermione scoffed. “What? Just my entire head?”

 

“Yes. The entire thing needs work.  _ LUNA!” _

 

Luna appeared moments later, a lilac sundress kissing her knees. “You called?” Luna’s voice floated through the hair. 

 

“Make Hermione obey me. And also can you do her hair? I was thinking of a braid to go with that dress?”

 

“Of course!” Luna chimed. “Hermione, you have to get dressed now or Fleur will have a fit and I am not one to think she’s particularly pleasant during a fit. You should see the Wrackspurts floating around that head.” 

 

Hermione groaned, rolling onto her belly and muffling the strangled noise with her quilt.

 

“ _ HERMIONE _ !” Luna and Ginny chastised in unison and she shifted, sitting up with a mumbled curse. What bollocks this all was. 

 

XXXXX

 

It took nearly an hour.  _ An hour.  _

 

But Hermione emerged with a loose braid draped over her shoulder, painted lips and eyelashes, and a red dress fluttering in soft waves around her. Flanked by her friends, they made their way down the hall. Ginny was saying something to Luna about the last mission they’d been on and how George had gotten his foot stuck in a rabbit trap, when she heard hushed voices, and for some reason, Hermione paused her step. 

 

Ginny and Luna followed suit, quieting as they heard the conversation from one of the rooms filtering out. 

 

“You ought to go for it, mate. I don’t mean to be insensitive but he’s not coming back.” 

 

“Don’t be a prick, Thomas. It’s not like that.” Theo’s voice rang clear and Hermione felt her heart stutter in her chest. “It’s... _ more _ . I—I think I’m falling for her.” 

 

Both of Hermione’s hands flew up of their own accord, gripping onto her friends for support as her brain struggled to make sense of what she was hearing. 

 

“Someone’s gotta be with her, it might as well be you,” Dean encouraged.

 

“Bullshite!” Seamus said with a snort. “You’re telling me if you were dead, and you saw your best friend boning your girl you wouldn’t come back and haunt his arse?” A few audible groans. “ _ I’d be back so fast _ .” 

 

“It doesn’t matter, alright? Just drop it.” The conversation lulled and they were still lurking just outside the door. Hermione panicked and elbowed Ginny, who erupted in a fake peal of laughter, and tugged her friends past the door in a rush, as though they hadn’t been listening in the slightest. 

 

As soon as they were down the stairs, Ginny dragged them into the pantry and closed the door. 

 

_ Falling for her. _

 

Hermione covered her face, sucking in shallow breaths, ignoring the curious stares of her friends. 

 

“Do you like him, Hermione?” Luna asked softly. 

 

At that, she laughed, her head falling back and a tear sliding down her cheek. “I can’t like Theo Nott. What kind of fucked-up individual would I be if I started falling for him?”

 

Ginny reached for her hand, squeezing it softly. “He’s a good man, Hermione. Don’t punish yourself for losing Malfoy forever.”

 

“I don’t know what else to do,” she choked on the words. “I can’t fall for him.  _ I can’t. _ ”

 

Luna sighed heavily. “I’m so sorry, Hermione. But I think you already have.” 

 

XXXXX

**A/N: The wedding next chapter is bound to be a dull affair, I’m sure of it! (grins maniacally)**

 

**And the reveal has happened! I hope you all aren’t disappointed but I didn’t feel write borrowing words from the inspired movie without noting it before hand.**

 

**As always love and light to all my wonderful readers, your reviews make my muse keen.**

 

**And I’ll be back soon with another update because** **_guess what?!_ **

 

**Unchained is now a finished draft.**

 

**32 chapters for those interested and an epilogue.**

 

**Until next time, LK**

 

**Alpha Love: MCal**

**Beta Babe: InDreams**

  
  
  
  
  



	24. Twenty-Four

 

 

**Recommended Song: “Can I Be Him” by James Arthur**

 

Stars of various shapes and designs hung in a thick canopy over their heads, framed by an enchanted, tented ceiling showcasing the navy sky above. The smell of dinner wafted through the air as Weasleys of all relations crowded the appetizer table. 

 

Hermione had at least been able to grab a champagne flute before a barrage of gingers had nearly mowed her down and she’d toppled into Harry’s arms. 

 

“Merlin,” she breathed, her eyes narrowing. “You’d think no one had ever fed the lot of them.”

 

Harry chuckled and righted her. “The opposite. They’ve been too well fed; now they’re all used to a standard intake that is quite impossible for anyone to keep up.” 

 

Across the tent, she saw a group of her friends and her breath quickened. Theo was laughing, his cheeks pink as Dean gesticulated a story wildly with his hands, and almost as if her stare had beckoned to him, his eyes floated up and caught on hers. She smiled softly in his direction and his laughter quickly died away; his slow, purposeful gulp was visible even from where she stood. 

 

“Yeah, nothing going on my arse,” Harry snorted, bringing Hermione out from her trance and she elbowed him, a laugh ghosting on her lips. 

 

“Nothing is going on.” 

 

“Yeah, maybe not  _ yet _ . But he’s making eyes at you like that and you’re all…” Harry’s pointer finger poked in her general direction. “Looking like that.” 

 

“Shut it, Potter,” she laughed. “I need food and I think for the first time in my life I might need a chaperone. I’m worried I’ll be trampled during the Weasley feeding frenzy.”

 

Harry’s brows inched towards his hairline and he sucked in a nervous breath through his teeth as he stared at the food table and the cluster of people still attacking it. “After you, ‘Mione.”

 

XXXXX

 

Dinner, while delicious, proved unceremonious in nature. It wasn’t until Seamus, Dean,  _ and _ the twins pulled out dewey flasks of Firewhisky and began passing them around the table that the realities of war faded off into the backs of their minds. Hermione had attempted to decline, but on the third go-around, as everyone’s inhibitions lowered and their tongues loosened, she decided to imbibe as well. 

 

After a few cold swigs, she felt a drunken flush pinken her cheeks, and on more than one occasion she found herself laughing until she tore a stitch in her side, clinging to her friends as she rode the laugh out. Her watery gaze always seemed to settle on Theo who held a constantly amused smile for her. 

 

As the plates were cleared and the music shifted into something more jovial, couples sifted away, making their way to the dance floor. Before Harry could wrap his arm around Ginny, Moody arrived, stabbing his walking stick into the ground and sneering at the lot of them. 

 

He growled before speaking, his lip curling upward. “You’re not to get too pissed tonight—y’hear?” Hermione stifled a chuckle, as he was clearly slurring his words and his human eye seemed lidded and on the verge of dozing. “ _ Constant Vigilance!”  _ Moody stumbled away and as he did the table erupted once more into laughter. 

 

“Oy, that old codger needs a Sober-up and some mouthwash.” Seamus jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.

 

The couples at the table rose from their seats, each one lost in starry-eyed expressions as they shuffled towards the dance floor. She could feel the stare coming from across the table but she couldn’t bear to look. For all the adventures she’d taken, all the blind leaps she’d jumped into without a second thought—Theo was one she couldn’t take. 

“Dance, ‘Mione?” Ron surprised her, holding his hand out for her. Still ignoring the Slytherin across the table, she rose gracefully from her seat. Once on the dance floor, she was tugged purposefully into his arms and Ron swayed them in a tight circle to the time of the song. 

 

“Since when do you dance so well?” Hermione asked, peering up at him. 

 

Ron scoffed, offended. “I’ve always been a good dancer, just no one I ever wanted to dance with.” 

 

She grinned, nudging him softly. “You big softy. And you decided I was finally worth the effort?” 

 

A soft blush rose to his cheeks and she noticed the mischievous sparkle in his clear blue eyes. “Well, it’s actually Lav and me, well… we’ve kind of… started things up again.” A crinkle formed in the center of Hermione’s brows. “And she was flirting shamelessly with George; I know it was just to get a rise out of me.” 

 

Her jaw unhinged. “Are you using me to make Lavender Brown jealous?” 

 

A slow smirk spread over his features and her palm came down hard on his chest. “Ronald!” Despite her irritation, a laugh bubbled past her lips as her gaze fell on a pucker-faced Lavender seething near the drink table. 

 

“Ah, you know how it is, ‘Mione. All’s fair in love and war.” 

 

Her brows flinched, and as they made another slow circle, she found Theo. He’d turned in his seat, now facing the dance floor, and was listening idly as Dean prattled on about something. Every few moments his eyes would float over towards her and when their gaze locked, Hermione felt her breath hitch. 

 

This abhorrent, niggling part of her wondered if she only felt drawn to him because of the connection he would always hold to Malfoy. But that just couldn’t be true. He was an entirely different person, one whose company she’d enjoyed both before and after Malfoy had come into her life, and in the weeks since her return, he’d been a constant. One she felt ridiculous for depending on because she was the first person to know just how fragile the constants in life could be. One day there, the next day a memory. 

 

“Ron!  _ RON _ !” Molly’s shrill shriek rang through the tent and Hermione jumped in Ron’s embrace. “Family picture!” Ron groaned and his hands fell away from Hermione’s waist, chagrin and shame painted over his features.

 

“Sorry,” he grumbled. “I’ll just be a minute.” 

 

Disbelief contorted her features as he turned back towards his mum and Hermione hissed after him. “ _ Ron!”  _

 

She paused, shifting her weight back and forth as couples continued their motions around her. Of all the times Ronald Weasley had humiliated her, this one might be the absolute worst. Her cheeks flamed with her embarrassment as she gnawed on her lip, waiting for the return of her partner. 

 

Lavender snuck up behind him just as the photos ended, wrapping her arms around his waist and batting her eyelashes like a fool. Hermione growled, her hands curling into fists, and she turned to leave the dance floor. 

 

Before she took a single step her forehead collided with a broad chest and she nearly toppled backward. Steady hands found her, wrapping around her waist and keeping her upright. 

 

“ _ Hullo _ .” Theo smirked down at her. “You looked like you needed a partner.” 

 

Tucking a curl behind her ear, heat rushed to her cheeks and she gulped. “You don’t need to—Ron’s just a prat.” His hand rested on the small of her back, pulling her close, and he caught her hand, lifting it slightly and leading her in a dance that was simple and smooth. 

 

“Ron’s stupid is what he is. And if he’s stupid enough to leave a beautiful witch alone on a dance floor, well I’m wise enough to reap the rewards.” Theo rolled his eyes and Hermione couldn’t help the girlish giggle that escaped her as she settled deeper into his embrace. 

 

Staring up at him, she lost herself in the moment. All the hurt of the past few months—of the past few years—quieted. It was such a simple enjoyment, dancing with a handsome boy on a lovely spring night, but it was one that she hadn’t realized how much she’d needed. She allowed herself to sink into these harsh versions of herself, and somewhere in all this surviving she’d been doing, she lost track of the part of herself who just wanted uncomplicated moments like this one. 

 

Well… this one was rather complicated if she thought past this dance floor, but she didn’t dare. Of its own accord, her hand slid from the safety of his shoulder and up to the nape of his neck; she felt gooseflesh rise along his skin. Theo’s gaze fell quickly to their feet. Then, as if he had been summoning the courage and finally found it, he stared intently at her. “You look beautiful tonight, in case no one told you.” 

 

His confession startled her; warmth bloomed in her chest and she bit her lip to stop the wide grin threatening to give her away. For the first time, she studied his wardrobe. It was simple enough, a black suit with a white Oxford underneath, the first few buttons undone. Simple, yet perfectly tailored and stunningly lean frame. “You don’t clean up so bad yourself. Where on earth did you find a tailored suit on short notice?” 

 

Theo’s head snapped back as though he’d been slapped and he narrowed his eyes at her. “Of course I packed a suit when we left; you never know when you need a proper suit.”

 

Hermione’s bright laughter startled them both and she mumbled her apologies as her chest bumped into his. “Of course, you’d think of a suit.”

 

A seriousness settled over his features and the hand resting on her lower back flexed ever so slightly. Their eyes locked, and despite the clambering of her heart, she could only focus her attention on the warmth of his palm and the way his pinky finger rested just above the curve of her bum. 

 

Hitching a breath, Theo’s gaze roamed over features and she panicked. Knowing that he was on the precipice of a confession she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear, she jumped back just as the song ended. Even after his hands left her, she could feel his touch, an echo of warmth she desperately missed. Jaw trembling, her hand came up to rest on her throat. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I think I’m a little light-headed,” she lied easily and slipped through the threadbare crowd before he could speak.

 

Pushing through the tent flap, she heaved in desperate breaths, each one scorching her throat as she tried to regain her fragile composure. How on earth had she found herself in this bloody situation  _ again _ —and with Theo Nott?

 

Gusts of wind floated through the garden, picking tendrils of her hair off her shoulders. She shivered as she heard soft footsteps behind her, her eyes fluttering closed as she begged for courage that she surely didn’t have.

 

She waited until she felt him at her back, until she could sense the heat of his hands hovering over the top of her arms. Then,  _ finally,  _ his touch fell on her skin and she gasped. 

 

“ _ Hermione _ …” Her name floated away on the wind and she turned, tears welling in her eyes. Her lips parted, ready to tell him how laughable this all was, how stupid and irresponsible and  _ wrong… _ she didn’t get the chance. 

 

Impossibly soft and tender, his lips brushed hers. Each movement was a quiet ask for permission; Hermione’s eyes drifted closed and she melted into his touch. His question was answered without a word spoken.

 

His kiss transformed into something firmer, more demanding and heated. As his hands wound around her waist, realization crashed over her shoulders and she darted back and out of his grip. 

 

Chest heaving, she buried her face in her hands. 

 

“I’m sorry—” he started, but Hermione cut him off, waving her hands maniacally in front of her. 

 

“Don’t! Please don’t apologize. It’s not you, I’m just—” Her watery gaze lifted towards the starry heavens and a weight settled painfully on her chest. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” 

 

Her feet carried her swiftly away from Theo as tears slipped unbidden down her cheeks. The tip of her heel caught in the grass and she paused only to slip out of them and scoop them in her arms before jogging over the lush grass and past the wards. Once the shimmer of magic washed over her, she was gone, disappearing with a  _ snap _ of her magic. 

 

XXXXX

 

Landing at Surrey House, a mixture of emotions crashed inside her chest. The house was quiet, likely unoccupied, but it still felt like a betrayal to walk this ground. 

 

Behind her lids, a dozen memories flashed painfully. A skirmish here, his hand on her belly as he taught her dark magic there. Stumbling through the front door, discarding clothes with every step in a frantic frenzy of kisses and touches that still haunted her dreams. 

 

Who was she that she could betray his memory like this? Just for a kiss with a cute boy. Her stomach roiled as she climbed the rickety steps and pushed the door open with a familiar creak. 

 

Broken breaths rasped from her lungs as her jaw quivered. The shame and want and sadness were quickly becoming unbearable and just as her hands rested on the back of the sofa, she heard the sound of Theo’s arrival. She was hardly surprised but it still caused a knot to tangle in the base of her throat. 

 

Closing her eyes, she counted. The only logical thing she could do to keep her mind from what she’d done, from what she wanted to do…

 

“Hermione?” Theo’s voice was quiet and almost… scared. There were no telltale sounds of his steps advancing into the room and she continued counting her breaths, waiting for them to slow into something more manageable. “Hermione, I know you don’t want me to apologize… but I’m bloody sorry. I should never have done that… I know.” At that strange phrase, her eyes shot open and she looked up at him through a tear-filled gaze, her brows knitting in an unspoken question. “I know I can’t be  _ that  _ for you. I know I shouldn’t have kissed you and I put you in this horrible situation...but I need you not to run from me.” 

 

Shaking her head, she stepped away from her spot behind the sofa, taking a tentative step towards him. “What're you saying, Theo?”

 

“ _ Don’t run _ .” His voice was tight and she noticed the way his jaw shook as he spoke. “Don’t leave again. I shouldn’t have kissed you and I bloody know that. But I can keep this… this…  _ whatever it is _ —” Theo ran a frantic hand through his dark hair as he struggled to find his words. “I can ignore it. We can go back to being friends or partners or whatever. Just— _ don’t leave.”  _

 

There it was, that familiar crack to her heart that felt right and wrong and all too familiar. “Theo,” she breathed. “I didn’t run because I didn’t want you to kiss me…" Her head shook in disbelief. "I ran because I _ wanted _ you to. And that’s selfish and wrong and… a million other words I can’t think of at this particular moment in time.  _ I can’t want you to kiss me.” _

 

There was a beat of tense silence. 

 

“Hermione.” The tone of his voice shifted and when she stared back at him she felt a hot coil deep in her belly. His lips were parted, hands curled into fists and his deep blue gaze felt all at once heated. “I want to kiss you...” 

 

Her lips fell apart, tongue brushing against the roof of her mouth, ready to tell him not to.

 

But even though this war had stripped her bare and shaped her into something else, she knew that at her core she was still that girl dancing in the tent. This war wanted to take every happiness from her youth, and who the fuck was she to deny herself even a single moment of joy in this war that could claim her life tomorrow. 

 

“ _ Okay.”  _

 

His eyes closed for a moment, his hands relaxed, and when they reopened, he was moving towards her. Both hands cradled her cheeks and his lips moved impatiently against hers, tasting her and memorizing every curve of her mouth as his hands traveled down and wound possessively around her back. 

 

There was no hesitation left in her and her hands slid from where they had landed on his waist and up the long, taut planes of his chest. She began slipping the buttons free and Theo pulled back, his forehead resting against hers as he panted. 

 

“Hermione, I’m not expecting anything.” His voice was husky and gruff and she responded by pressing her lips against his, sucking his bottom lip between hers and swallowing his groan. His hands found their courage, skimming down her back and gripping the curve of her bum through the thin fabric of her dress. It was impossible to tell if he was pushing or she was pulling, but slowly, she retreated through the house, pausing at the mouth of the hall. 

 

There was a brief moment of panic; as much as she had decided on  _ this _ , she wasn’t sure she could do  _ this _ in the bed she’d shared with Draco. She breathed a sigh of relief as Theo turned left into the room with the two smaller beds and as he kicked the door closed behind him with his heel, his mouth left hers. Trailing his lips in an unexplored path down her throat and she pulled him closer, threading her fingers through his dark hair and letting her head fall back as his mouth skimmed her collarbone. 

 

With steady fingers, she continued the work on his buttons, finally pushing the shirt from his shoulders. Again, Theo pulled back, staring at her. He was asking. Her lips quirked up and she rolled her eyes playfully before pulling his undershirt over his head. 

 

For the first time that she was really allowed, she studied the long, lean lines of him. Her fingers trailed the swells and dips of his muscle and his dusky nipples peaked under the barely-there ghosting of her fingertips. His abdomen tightened as she slid her touch over the smattering of chest hair, and again as her knuckles kissed the trail underneath his belly button when she found the button of his trousers. 

 

The hold on her hips tightened briefly, and he stepped into her space, her breasts bumping against his bare chest. One hand slid up her back, finding the zipper hidden along her spine, and in a sinfully slow movement, he pulled it loose. 

 

His touch lit her skin on fire and the breathy little noises escaping her matched the ache between her thighs as his fingers brushed her bare skin. Hunching her shoulders, the ruby chiffon slipped over her shoulders and pooled at their feet. Insecurity and fear colored her skin as he took a step back and filled his lungs. 

 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ Theo breathed and in an effort to regain her confidence, Hermione tilted her chin upward. He huffed a tiny little noise, and stepped back into her, curling around her and whispering into her ear. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

 

His lips pressed lightly to the hollow of her throat, and then to the swell of her breast. He paused briefly, eyeing the pendant hanging around her neck, her gift from Draco. Her throat tightened, air coming impossibly quick, but when he laid a reverent kiss to the gold coin, she felt herself breathe again. Sliding his hands behind her, he released the clasp of her bra and she gasped as the lace fell away, baring her breasts to the cool air. Instantly, her nipples pebbled and brushed against his skin in a delightful way that made the walls of her sex ache for attention. 

 

His slow exploration of her body continued as Theo moved his kiss downward. With a flick of his tongue, he teased the peak of her nipple before capturing it between his lips. She couldn’t stop the low moan that slipped over her tongue as her hands rested on Theo’s shoulders. Suddenly, he fell to his knees, pressing her backward a few steps until her back was pressed against the door. A single kiss landed on her belly button and she sucked in a nervous breath. 

 

His fingers found the hem of her knickers and peeled them slowly down her thighs, and the slick want pooling between her thighs left her uncomfortably embarrassed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this abhorrently turned on and her head fell back against the door, her hands tangling in his hair as he quickly dipped his tongue between her thighs. 

 

“Theo…” she whimpered, arching into him. 

 

One of his hands curved around the back of her knee, lifting it to rest on his shoulder. Suddenly, he was  _ there. _ His mouth latched onto her throbbing sex, fingers slipping easily into her folds, curling and pumping as her hips bucked shamelessly against his face. There was an ease and expertise to the swirling of his tongue and the kneading of his free hand against the flesh of her arse that quickly had her gasping for breath as her orgasm flooded her body. His tongue lapped at her while she fell to pieces, tugging at his hair and arching shamefully. 

 

The final haggard breaths of her orgasm faded and his mouth once again found a lazy trail up her body, peppering kisses along the swell of her breast before once again finding her mouth. The taste of her still lingered on his lips and it churned something sinful in her belly as he pressed his burgeoning erection into her hip. 

 

Their lips parted and she couldn’t quell the panting of her breath. “I thought you were a virgin…” she teased, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. 

 

Theo snorted, his hands finding her bum and squeezing her firmly, tugging her closer until the tip of his cock was almost  _ there _ . “I  _ am _ a virgin.” He lifted her and she quickly locked her ankles behind his back as he moved them towards the bed. They collapsed in a heap, and at the last moment, he caught his weight over her, caging her between his arms as he ground his cock against the heat rising in the apex of her thighs. “But it’s not my first interaction with a witch, either.”

 

He pulled back, resting on his haunches as he stared down at her naked form. She could only imagine how she looked at this point in the evening, mascara smudged, wild curls, and swollen lips; yet, he looked at her as though she were a figment of his dreams. His hands curled in the thin sheet underneath her, sliding it from under his bum and pulling it over his shoulders as he created a faux canopy around them. Shrouded in the quiet and the stark white of the sheet, her fingers found the hem of his pants and pushed them slowly over the curve of his bum. 

 

He shifted, positioning himself at her entrance as her knees hitched up, and she panicked. Both her hands flew up to his cheeks and she moved his gaze to match hers. “Are you sure you want this to be with me?” 

 

His nervousness faded into a sweet smile and he shook his head. “Hermione Granger, I have wanted this to be you since I was fourteen years old.” 

 

Before she could think of the incredible repercussions of that confession, he slid inside her. A soft, pleasured cry escaped her as she marveled at the sensation of being filled by him. Her thighs tightened along his hips and he stilled, his face burrowing in the crook of her neck. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he groaned, his voice and tight and almost pained. 

 

Under her palms, she could feel his muscles trembling and she worried her lip. “Are you alright?” 

 

He chuckled and the sensation against her already sensitive clit made her keen, her lower back arching as she bucked into him. 

 

“Are you kidding?” He grinned against her skin, sliding out to the tip before rolling his hips and thrusting into her again. “Merlin, you’re perfect. I… I can't—” The sheet draped around them trembled and she twisted her hand in the fabric, pulling it down to his waist, skimming the taut muscle that led smoothly into the curve of his bum.

 

“Theo,” she crooned. “It’s okay. You can just…  _ go.  _ I understand.” She tried to say it in the most encouraging way possible and he seemed to relax, his hand sliding down the curve of her side as he squeezed the thick flesh of her hip and began pressing inside her with a delightful persistence. With each slap of his hips against her, a pleasured moan pushed out of her and just as she felt that familiar climb of her release beckoning to her, his hips stuttered and stilled, a strangled groan muffled against her skin. 

 

She released a breath, her limbs falling loose as she drew lazy lines down his back. Sliding from inside her, he fell to the side and tugged her into him. “Please say we can do that again,” he panted. “Soon.” 

 

She chuckled, wrapping around him on the tiny bed and kissing his chest, ignoring the guilt that kept prodding at the edges of her consciousness.

  
  


XXXXX

 

**A/N: Gulp, gulp, gulp. This one is for BookLoversDream… I couldn’t make the parachute happen, my dear. But a poorly draped sheet will have to do! Also, she made some freaking GORGEOUS fan art for Unchained, and it’s a lovely picture that showcases Theo’s abs and for that I am forever drooling! Check out her Tumblr or mine to sneak a peek and I’ll add it to the AO3 Appendix too under Character Cards!**

 

**Alpha and beta love to my queens: Mcal and InDreams, without them, I am trash panda.**

 

**Thank you for reading and reviewing, I wish I could take a picture of my grin everytime your messages come across my inbox. ITS THE BESSST!**

 

**And yay! Epilogue is finished! I’ll update chapters as I get them back from my lovely beta for you all.**

 

**Until next time, LK.**

  
  



	25. Twenty-Five

Hermione woke to near-complete darkness. A beam of soft moonlight cut through the window, illuminating a small square of wood in the center of the room. She was too hot. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat, naught but a thin white sheet tangled between her legs and draped haphazardly over her middle. The realization that a long body curled around her caused her eyes to widen; sucking in a quiet breath, she felt Theo’s erection press lightly into her bum. 

 

Impossibly soft lips travelled down her shoulder and settled into the crook of her neck. One hand tugged the sheet from her body, explored the flat planes of her belly and the curve of her breast. Conflicting emotions of want and guilt swirled inside her, but as Theo’s long fingers slipped between her folds, her back arched and she shoved the guilt back down. 

 

They were decidedly alive and might not be tonight. And Theo was… _Theo._  

 

“ _Hermione.”_ Her name was a praise—a prayer—and it ghosted across her skin. His fingers began a slow, deliberate pump in and out of her. She twisted one hand behind their heads, tangling in his hair and pulling their bodies closer together as he thrust his hips against her. 

 

With a strangled moan, she disentangled herself from him and turned in his embrace, careful not to push either of them from the narrow bed. Before she’d settled fully in his arms, their lips found each other’s in the darkness, slick bodies sliding effortlessly against each other as their touches turned frantic and hungry. 

 

Theo filled his hands with her, worshiping every inch of her skin as his tongue slid between her lips, tasting her. “Fuck, I want you so bad it hurts,” he groaned. His hand hitched her knee higher, the tip of his cock skimming her already slick entrance and she keened into the touch, begging for more as he pressed barely inside her. 

 

Growling, Hermione shifted her weight, pushing him until he was flat on his back, and without another thought, sank onto his lap. Her head fell back as a soft moan was pushed from her lungs; beneath her, Theo’s hands came up to rest on her hips, squeezing almost painfully as he sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth. 

 

He cursed under his breath, his fingers tightening, keeping her still. “How in the fuck do you feel so good?” 

 

Hermione grinned, rolling her hips once and relishing the soft hiss from his lips. She rolled again, before rising up until he was barely inside her and then sliding down in a sinfully slow motion. Her hands rested on his, pulling them from her hips and sliding them up her body until his palms were on her breasts. She didn’t let them linger there. Instead, with a gentle touch, she guided his hands under the pillow and left them there. Confusion flickered over his features. 

 

“Just—” She grinned. “ _Trust me_?” 

 

Swallowing thickly, he nodded, and she rolled her hips several times, palms resting firmly on his chest. Theo arched up, the restraint of keeping his hands where she’d put them plain on his face as she rode him slowly, not in any rush. She relished the feeling of unadulterated pleasure coursing from inside of her, of his thick length reaching spots in her that hadn’t been touched in _so long_. 

 

“Salaza— _fuck,”_ he growled, and Hermione’s nails dug into his chest as she recognized the beginnings of her orgasm. Her hand moved between them, finding her clit and brushing against it as she rocked against his lap. Within seconds she was falling apart, her lips falling open in a silent cry and curls covered her face. 

 

 _Merlin._ Her head fell back as the final wave of her orgasm washed over her, curling her toes until her vision waned. She collapsed on top of him, her breasts pressing flat against his chest. Removing his hands from their confines, his palms slid up her back, earning a shiver. 

 

Theo began moving beneath her, thrusting up into her, and the new angle rubbed against her sensitive bud. As she pushed up on her palms, still hovering over him, he changed his pace, setting a punishing rhythm into her that had her breasts bouncing in his face. Muttered expletives tumbled from his lips as he fucked her, and when she felt like she was about to collapse on top of him again, he stilled. A few final thrusts and they both fell into a post-coital heap of panting breaths and slick bodies. 

 

Shifting her weight off of him, her palm found his cheek and turned his face towards hers. Hermione pushed the dark brown fringe out of his face and smiled up at him, post-orgasmic ecstasy still fading from her body. There was a prickle of their magic between them and when their lips met again, it was a deeper kiss. One that felt full of unspoken promises and affection. 

 

She pulled away, brows knitting as she huffed out a guilty little breath. She tried to shove the thoughts away, pushing Malfoy back behind the walls she had so carefully constructed, and settled back into the crook of Theo’s arm. 

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against her curls. 

 

She swallowed around the knot coiled deep in her throat and nodded. She _was_ happy; Theo was wonderful. But the emotions were too complicated. They weren’t layered, they were intertwined into an unrecognizable mess. “Me too,” she agreed simply, once again shoving that niggling feeling in her belly away. 

 

XXXXX

 

After resting for an hour or so in the quiet darkness of Surrey house, they returned to Canterbury, still wearing their clothes from the wedding with swollen lips and tousled hair. Hermione found herself laughing more easily than she had in years and _fuck,_ it felt good. Better than it should have, considering they were in a war. 

 

As they approached the back steps, the sun broke over the horizon and Theo paused, threading her fingers into the space between his and yanking her into a tight embrace. His eyes sparkled with unbridled glee and as much as she wanted to fight it, she couldn’t. She pulled him into a soft kiss before pressing him away playfully and entering through the back door. 

 

Her eyes went wide when she found the kitchen full of most of her friends, all pissed drunk and making breakfast. Theo slammed into her back, freezing as he, presumably, noticed the same. 

 

There was a tense beat of silence as the belligerent group before them connected the dots. Then from near the fridge, Seamus yelled, “FUCK YEAH! _Get it, Granger_!” 

 

Hermione’s jaw fell open and Theo’s hands came to rest on her shoulders, squeezing them in a quiet consolation. A violent blush bloomed on her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands. The room erupted into drunken hoots and hollers and a surprised laugh escaped her, and before long she was laughing until tears welled in her eyes and she turned to smother her face in Theo’s chest. 

 

His arms wrapped around her and she felt a familiar rumble of his laughter too. They’d snuck back so damn early to avoid this very mess and instead had walked into it headfirst. With a groan, he let her go and led her from the kitchen. “Shut up, you fools! Sober up before Mad-Eye throws you all in the brig.” As he tugged her from the room, Hermione hid her face, unable to look at her friends as she lost herself in a fit of giggles. 

 

XXXXX

 

Everyone was too hungover to train and they’d had no word of missions upcoming. Spring was proving to be unseasonably warm and they all waded down towards the pond, stretched out in shorts and t-shirts, reveling in the sun kissing their skin. 

 

Hermione was lying belly-down, resting her chin on her forearm as she read through the children’s book she’d been left when Dumbledore had passed. 

 

“Do you think the water’s warm?” Ginny mused, rolling onto her belly and nudging Hermione with her shoulder. 

 

“No.” 

 

“It might be,” Ginny pressed. 

 

Hermione turned an amused glare on her. “It’s May. That water is freezing. It doesn’t matter how warm the air is, it hasn’t had time to properly warm the water yet this early in the season.” 

 

Fred sat up from the neighboring blanket. “You’re so smart, Hermione.” 

 

Hermione peered over at him with a narrowed expression, finding the mischievous turn of his lips to be wholly unsettling. “Thank you.” 

 

“I wonder, do you find that practical or theoretical knowledge holds more weight?”

 

Hermione’s brows flickered as she considered the simple question. “I suppose practical; after all, if you have the experience and not just the theory of a thing it would ring truer. Now that’s not to discredit— _what are you doing?”_

 

Fred grinned and hopped from his blanket, easily plucking Hermione from her spot while she kicked and screamed, laughter chasing every expletive, and before she knew it, she was being tossed off the dock unceremoniously. 

 

She sank just a few inches below the surface of the cool water, kicking frantically until her face broke free and she caught her breath. “Fred, you prat!” 

 

George crowded Fred, both of them laughing riotously, clinging to each other as they stared at her. “How's the water?” George shouted.

 

Treading water, she found the water to be quite enjoyable, actually, and she growled. “Find out for yourselves!” She pulled her wand from its holster and flicked her wrist, pulling them both into the water. The spell hadn’t been nearly strong enough to get them deep and they landed in the mud with a soft _thud._  

 

All hell broke loose as Neville scooped up Luna and ran fast for the end of the dock, sending a massive wave crashing over Hermione’s head as she stowed her wand and swam deeper in. 

 

One by one, her friends lingering on the fringe of the lake jumped in. Happy peals of laughter filled the air and Hermione kicked her legs up, floating on her back and enjoying the quiet push and pull of the water. She felt Theo’s presence before he made it known and his hands skimmed her back, hovering just under her. Her eyes remained closed but she bit her lip to keep from smiling as he guided her around the water. 

 

She let her hands rise and fall as he supported her weight, flapping them like wings as she glided the surface of the lake. After a moment, his hands fell away. “C’mere, you.” 

 

He pulled her against his body, and despite the dozens of bodies in the lake with them, she let herself melt into his touch, wrapping her legs around his waist as he treaded water for the both of them. Sodden curls hung loose down her back and she pushed his water-soaked hair back from his forehead before kissing his full lips and crushing her body into his. 

 

It was easy to forget the world outside the wards. In this moment, soaking in the sunshine, wading in a country pond with a handsome boy who had starry eyes for her, it was too easy to forget the refugee camp to the north. To forget the shattered storefronts of Diagon and the fortresses with dungeons full of Muggle-borns. 

 

In this moment, she was blissfully happy. And she kissed Theo once more just to prove it. Ron and Harry were clearly unamused as they both screamed something about Theo keeping his grimy hands off her, though the jest was clear in their voice. Hermione broke the kiss, collecting a handful of water and throwing it in their direction with a laugh. 

 

“Piss off!” She laughed and hitched her elbows tighter around Theo’s neck, bumping her nose against his as she smiled. “They’re harmless.” 

 

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Theo smirked, kissing her quickly. “Everyone knows you’re the real lion on the team.” His hands curled around her ribs, and when he captured her lips with his and let them both fall beneath the surface, she clung to him. Weightless underwater, her curls lifted and swirled around them as one hand found the base of her neck and he kissed her hard before kicking them back to the surface. 

 

Back in the sun, she pressed her forehead against his and chuckled. “I like you,” she confessed, and it didn’t feel so heavy as it would have before. It was simply true. 

 

“Oh, Granger.” His lips pulled up into a crooked smile and he kissed the tip of her nose as the hand still cradling the back of her neck tightened. “I might be disowned, broke, and in the middle of a sodding war… but I am the luckiest bloke on this blasted planet right now.” 

 

XXXXX

 

They were allowed a few days reprieve from the war and for a time, it almost felt… good. The sun was bright and the mood cheerful and it felt almost like a summerhouse with her friends. 

 

Almost. 

 

Lupin appeared not but two days later and asked for volunteers to head up to the Refugee Camp in the north. Hermione’s hand was the first in the air, followed swiftly by Theo’s and Luna’s. 

 

A Portkey was dropped with a thud on the table and Remus activated it with a twist of his wand. He was the first to hover his hand over it and the rest of them took the few steps and followed his lead. In an instant, they were gone. 

 

XXXXX

 

It was decidedly less warm up north… although she had no idea where _north_ actually was other than the general direction. The exact location was kept under the Fidelius and it was accessible only through Portkeys. 

 

The chill settled in her bones and Hermione’s hands automatically came up to rub against her bare arms as she peered around the grounds. 

 

“It’s a bit of a walk,” Remus called, blowing warm air into his hands. _He hadn’t thought to warn them of the weather?_ She rolled of her eyes. 

 

The shimmer of a warming charm pushed over her and her eyes flickered to Theo who was smiling fondly her. They walked in near silence for about five minutes through sprawling countryside and then, out of nowhere, a ward gave way. In front of them was a massive estate similar to Bristol house. A thick layer of fog hung low to the ground against a charcoal sky, and the three of them paused for a moment to soak in the sight. 

 

A tiny hand curled around hers, and Luna offered her a small smile that was exactly _Luna_ and twitched her chin in the direction of the house. “It’s not so bleak inside… _mostly._ ” 

 

She was right. Once inside the door, children were sprinting across the grand foyer, laughter trickling through the air. Remus turned, shoving his fists in his worn woolen trousers. “I need you three to check in with the different heads and see what they need in terms of supplies and whatnot. Theo, would you mind speaking with Poppy? Find out what she needs as far as medical supplies and support here; I know they are drowning in refugees. She’ll give it to you straight.” 

 

“Sure, where is she?” Theo asked, taking a small step forward. 

 

“Top of the stairs and to the left in the infirmary.” Theo nudged Hermione and gave her a small smile before turning to jog up the stairs. “Luna, check in with the children’s coordinator. You know her, yeah?”

 

Luna smiled, releasing Hermione’s grip. “Of course. Meet here or back in Canterbury?” 

 

“Here, I think.” Remus nodded. “I’ll find you.” 

 

Luna was gone without another look, her long blonde hair kissing her waist as she entered a large room full to the brim with small cots. Hermione couldn’t filter out what she was feeling. There were just… so many of them. 

 

“How long are they all here for?” Hermione asked, filling her lungs with a painful breath. 

 

The corner of Remus’ lips quirked and he turned to walk, gesturing she might join him. “As long as they need. Some are eager to re-assimilate, others opt for Obliviation… some just aren’t sure.” 

 

“There are so many…” Her voice felt tight as she stared at the simply dressed Muggles and Muggle-borns wandering the estate, all moving with a purpose. Some were folding clothes, others tending to the children or working in the kitchens. It was a well-oiled machine. “Did you have to do this before? In the first war?”

 

Remus’ gaze dropped and he paused in front of a giant arched window. “You know, it’s so odd thinking of the differences between now and then.” He chuckled. “I was younger then—better looking too, I assure you.” 

 

Hermione laughed and leaned back against the wall, staring out the windows at the sprawling, fog-covered grounds and the children running freely. 

 

“We were just a bunch of kids, much like you are now. But we didn’t have an older generation who’d been through it all. We had nothing like this—” He gestured to the room around them. “Wand-happy and eager to rush into each battle. James used to say, _Leave a legacy, don’t live with regrets.”_ Remus paused to roll his eyes. “You know, of all my friends, I’m the only one left. I’m the only one who has to do this all a second time.” 

 

Hermione swallowed thickly, unsure what to do with this very unexpected and personal confession she was being presented with.

 

“We look at you, Moody and I—Molly, too—and we only see our mistakes. We see all the things we could have— _should have—_ done differently.” Remus stopped to shake his head, cutting his monologue short. “Anyway, it won’t be an issue for you lot. We’ll end this properly, yes?” 

 

Hermione’s lips pulled into a tight smile and she nodded, her brows knitted closely together. 

 

Jerking his head in the direction of the lawn, he gave her a grim smile. “Check in with the women’s coordinator, her name is Maggie. See what Muggle products we can provide for them, how they are doing on food and anything else they might need. Try to get a feel for their general well-being; they won’t usually say it outright but if things are amiss hopefully we can do something to change it. Thunderbird and Phoenix have raids tonight at twenty-three hundred specifically for the refugees. Any comforts we can offer them are a bonus, too.” 

 

Remus brought a hand up to rest on her shoulder, offering a tight squeeze before disappearing into the folds of the house. 

 

Making her way down the hall, Hermione saw mostly women shuffling about, carrying linens or baskets with various items. She rounded a corner and entered a large room that seemed to once have been the servants’ quarters; Hermione’s breath caught tight in her throat. 

 

“Layla?” she whispered, and the Muggle from the Death Eater camp turned, a grin spreading when she laid eyes on Hermione. In a few short steps, Layla gripped Hermione, wrapping her arms tightly around her small frame in a fierce embrace. “Merlin, you look so different!” Her cheeks had filled out, and even her hair seemed a move vibrant shade of brown if that was possible. 

 

A small laugh rumbled through Layla’s chest and she pulled away. “Funny what a little food and water will do.” 

 

“You’re—you’re okay?” This woman had seen real trauma. She’d borne witness to the bowels of evil, and yet she stood there smiling. It gave Hermione hope. 

 

“Today I am.” She shrugged, a kind smile on her lips. “Most days, too. Not all. Some are worse, and some are unbearable.”

 

Layla began a slow walk down the hall and Hermione followed eagerly. “It’s not been that long—I’m so happy for you.” 

 

“This place is incredible and you know, the twins are thrilled. They love the huge house and their friends and the glimpses of magic that don't hurt. It’s not at all where we expected our lives to be, but after seeing some really fucked up shit, we consider ourselves lucky.” 

 

The word struck a chord with Hermione, echoing in the chambers of her soul and coming back to her in a fresh way. _Lucky._ From something horrible, they’d found happiness. “You won’t be Obliviated?”

 

Layla’s features pinched and she loosened a low breath. “I don’t think so, at least not me. They can’t guarantee memories won’t come back and I don’t want the twins to get them back and be unable to help them. I’ll talk to them about it when it’s our time to leave and see what they want to do. I keep treating them like babies but they keep proving me wrong.” A proud grin stretched over her lips as they stopped in front of a closed door. “I assume you’re here for Maggie?”

 

Hermione nodded but before Layla could say anything she clung to her, wrapping her in another tight hug and trying her best to convey to her just how much she’d needed this moment. Layla stepped away and held Hermione at arms’ length, smiling at her. 

 

“I’ll assume if I don’t see you again it’s because you’ve escaped all this madness and are having pretty babies with that tall drink of water with the pretty blue eyes?” Layla’s nose crinkled and she chuckled. 

 

“I make no promises, but assume away. It’s a lovely thing to imagine, even if it never happens.” Hermione nudged Layla and the young girl fell away, turning once over her shoulder to flutter her fingers through the air in a goodbye. 

 

She wasn’t lying. 

 

It was a lovely thing to imagine. 

 

XXXXX

 

**A/N: Just some fluff for you. You deserve it, afterall! Thank you for the lovely feedback on the last chapter and this entire story! I feel so lucky to have the best readers and I’m so grateful that you follow this little chunk of words.**

 

**Thank you as always to MCal and InDreams, my Alpha/Beta dream team. I own nothing but the errors I’ve left strewn behind.**

 

**Until next time, friends!**

**LK**

  



	26. Twenty-Six

Stacked neatly on the back lawn were the spoils of the raid. Dozens of boxes had been returned to their full size and awaited their dutiful attention. The raid itself had gone off without a hitch; stealing from Muggles was something Hermione now found decidedly in the gray area of her moral spectrum. Maybe it was due to seeing the conditions that the refugees had come from and what they so desperately needed now; maybe it was just that riding on her high horse for so long was exhausting… and frankly, lonely. 

 

“Right,” Neville said with a long sigh. “Guess we should get started. Hermione, we normally make two piles: essential and non-essential. After we get them there, we split them betweenthe safe houses and the refugees. Luna?” Luna hummed and took a small step forward, staring up at Neville, her eyes rounded. “Did you compile the lists?”

 

Luna flicked her wrist and a corkboard appeared; another turn of her wand and a long series of parchments were tacked to the front, each one with the name of a different safe house and what they were lacking. 

 

“Let’s get to work,” Seamus said, clapping his hands. “Sooner we finish this, sooner I'm drinking by the lake.” 

 

The work was tedious. Each box Hermione opened held anything from nappies to shaving cream. The section of the warehouse was mostly toiletries although there were about ten boxes down the way of canned goods and other non-perishables. 

 

“This seems like a waste of resources,” she grumbled. “Can’t we do this with magic? Surely there is a charm to sort these.” 

 

“Not really,” Ginny remarked, heaving a sigh. “We’ve tried a few but nothing we’ve found can dictate what's essential and not. Then, of course, not all safe houses need the same amount of supplies. No one’s ever in Surrey house anymore unless there’s no other option. Canterbury and Derbyshire need more than the rest it seems but the Northern refugee house takes precedence overall.” 

 

It wasn’t the task so much as it was the mindlessness of it. Put her somewhere that challenged her and pushed the limits of mental capacity— _ this _ was just… 

 

With a groan, she used her wand to slice through the tape on the top of a box and lifted the lid. Inside were twelve neatly packed bottles of wine and she smiled down at them as if it’d been a box full of galleons. “Seamus?” she called over her shoulder, waiting until he was standing next to her before speaking again. “How essential is wine?” 

 

Seamus grinned as he peered in the box. “Now, that would depend on who you ask.” 

 

“Guess it’s a good thing I asked you.” They shared a conspiratorial look and as he reached in to grab two bottles, she covered for him, blocking the action from prying eyes. 

 

“ _ Oak tree _ ,  _ five minutes _ .” Seamus hissed, then called loudly over his shoulder that he needed a piss as he shrunk the bottles and stowed them in his pocket. 

 

Chuckling, Hermione made herself busy for a few minutes before excusing herself quietly for a moment and sneaking off to meet Seamus behind the oak tree. 

 

XXXXX

 

An hour and a half later and their work was nearly done. Seamus was down the way, singing a drunken song about fair lassies and the rolling hills of Ireland. Hermione was humming along, her mind buzzing delightfully from her share of stolen wine. 

 

Theo had been eyeing her suspiciously since her return, his eyes bright with amusement as she hiccuped and swayed. “You know, you seem like you’re in quite the mood.” 

 

Hermione’s eyes blew wide and round and her spine straightened. “Am I?” 

 

“Indeed. Especially considering all the grumbling you were doing just an hour ago…”

 

Biting down on her lip to keep from smiling, she turned and stared up at him, the picture of innocence. “I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I love sorting through boxes on a beautiful afternoon. Nothing pleases me more.” 

 

Theo’s lips quirked up wickedly and he dropped his mouth to her ear, his breath fanning over the stray curls, tickling her jaw. “Now, I seriously doubt that.” His lips pressed against the curve of her throat and she gulped, her hands moving of their own accord to wind in his shirt. 

 

When he pulled back, gazing at her with a hungry stare and parted lips, she felt an ache between her thighs. Hermione managed a look over her shoulder; most everyone was seated now or heading for the lake, and she caught her lip between her teeth as she considered sneaking away for a midday romp. Sensing her warring thoughts, he threaded his fingers with hers and tugged her inside.

 

If anyone noticed them slipping away, they didn’t mention it, and as soon as they were safely in the kitchen, Theo turned, scooping her up so that her ankles could lock behind his waist and maneuvered them through the house. With astounding finesse, he climbed the stairs while sucking her neck, and she found herself idly jealous of his physical prowess. All such thoughts were quieted as he kicked his bedroom door shut behind them and dropped her to her feet. 

 

They ripped the clothes from each other’s bodies in a frenzy. He wrenched his shirt over his head, tossing it waywardly over her shoulders as he yanked the buttons on her shorts free and shoved them down her thighs. Once they were down to their undergarments she pressed her body against him, their kiss transforming to one that was all tongue and teeth.

 

His hands never stopped roaming, never stopped gripping and grabbing, and within moments they were falling in a heap on the bed. Hermione whimpered his praises, worshipping his name as he crawled up her body and slid inside her, their noses bumping as they joined. Curling around him, she let go of feminine little breaths every time he thrust into her. 

 

Theo’s pace was frantic—hard and deliberate and  _ Merlin _ , she didn’t ever want it to end. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. She mumbled against his lips, warning that she was close and slipping a hand between them to help her along as he resumed a swift pace, hitching her leg higher and driving into her. As her orgasm swelled and coursed through her limbs, she clung to him, riding it out with erratic spasms as he emptied inside her with a final thrust of his hips. 

 

When he pushed up on his hands to look at her, all swollen lips and messy curls, a hazy smile formed on his lips. “Damn, Granger.” 

 

She chuckled as he rolled off her. “Damn, yourself.” 

 

XXXXX

 

It was a strange sensation, being outside for a mission when it wasn’t dark and cold. The sun beamed down at them, sweat causing thin curls to cling to her cheeks as she breathed deeply behind the cover of her mask. Jets of magic colored the forest, and every few seconds a member of Thunderbird would manage to peek around the trunk of a tree and send a curse flying at no one in particular. 

 

They needed to get the fuck out—and now. They’d been beaten and outnumbered, and by fierce fighters. There was no way these Death Eaters were recruits. They were lethal, quick. They’d cut down two Aurors in a matter of seconds; their blood still crusted Hermione’s fingernails long after she’d cast a  _ Tergeo  _ on them _. _

 

There was a brief respite and a familiar voice yelled, “ _ SHIELD _ !” The teammates shared a knowing look, and cursing under her breath, they stepped out from hiding and cast in unison. 

 

“ _ Protego Maximum!” _ Beams of shimmering magic burst from their wands and connected into a wide shield. Holding it was difficult; a steady stream of such intense magic weakened the caster. Her wand arm trembled as Trueman hurtled towards them, jumping over a log and falling to the ground, cradling his knee. 

 

“Fuck!” he screamed, his face contorted in pain. Hermione almost lowered her shield…  _ almost. _ They were now facing a line of Death Eaters some hundred yards away. At least a dozen of them, each one casting lethal curses with lazy flicks of their wrists. Magic pelted against the curve of their combined shield and she watched as Trueman stared at the advancing enemy and then back at his soldiers. “ _ FALL BACK _ !” His voice boomed through the air as he pushed slowly to his feet, his knee buckling from an old injury. Hermione shook her head, pouring more of her depleted magic into her shield, but when Trueman peeled his mask away, she could see his peace. He was going to get them out. 

 

Her mind played out the scenarios. The Gryffindor in her screamed to stay and fight, to rush for Trueman and get him past the wards, injury or not. Her throat tightened as she felt the truth of it weigh heavy on her shoulders. She was one of many and this wasn’t her fight to take; it would cost some of them their lives. 

 

“ _ Granger _ !” Theo called from her right and she let out a wild cry as she felt her team gather, their shield closing in. She couldn’t move as she stared at Trueman, his face resigned. His lips twitched and he nodded once. Silently he mouthed a final command.  _ Go. _

 

Turning, Trueman cast a wide shield, his body surging with magic as the six of them dropped their wands, turned their backs and ran like hell. They shoved past the wards, and as Hermione placed the lawn of Canterbury house squarely in her mind, she turned on her heel, watching as his shield faltered and a dozen curses destroyed his body. 

 

XXXXX

 

The bonfire was solemn. Hermione took one too many pulls of Firewhisky, and from the other side of the flames, she saw O’Connor, studying the fire with a strange intensity. Remus was also there, and even Moody had stopped by for a pull of his flask and a grumble. 

 

There was no recollection of happy memories. There were no tears. Just the dull roar of the fire and their breaths to fill the void. 

 

Walking into the house that night, she stared at the new name scrawled on the chalkboard and her breath hitched. She studied each one, trying to remember good things about the ones she knew well, even the ones she didn’t… the one she loved. 

  
  


**K.I.A.**

 

  1. _Mclaggen_
  2. _Miller_
  3. _Rhumber_
  4. _Shacklebolt_
  5. _Goldstein_
  6. _Malfoy_
  7. _Grey_
  8. _Herron_
  9. _Malley_



 

XXXXX

 

The front room was full; every Order member was stuffed tightly on the sofas or sitting on the floor. Theo had quickly claimed the armchair near the window and Hermione had curled on the floor near his feet next to Ginny. Murmurs of the reason for a meeting floated quietly throughout the room, but Hermione had a pretty good idea this had to do with the remaining Horcrux. Harry had mentioned on several occasions that he was starting to feel the pressure from Moody to find the damn thing, but they were nowhere closer to figuring out where it was. 

 

Clearing his throat, Harry begrudgingly stepped in front of the fireplace, his hands leaving his trouser pockets to clasp together tightly in front of him. A nervous habit of his. “Right.” He winced. “As you all know, we’ve been searching for these artefacts for some time and they’re the key to bringing down Vol—” He paused. There had been a rumor of a taboo and as such there was a list of words that they were forbidden from speaking. “You-Know-Who. So far, we have something from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, several from Slytherin in fact, and we are pretty sure he failed in his creation of a Gryffindor Horcr—” Ron jabbed Harry in the ribs with an elbow and Harry paused, groaning as he ran his hands through his messy hair. Horcrux was also off limits. “ _ Whatever _ . We think there may be a Ravenclaw  _ artefact _ ?”

 

Cho’s quiet voice rang clear as a bell through the group. “Ravenclaw? What kind of things are they?” Her dark eyes were intent on him and Hermione noticed Luna had also shifted in her seat, the allure of a puzzle dangling in front of them. 

 

Ron took a step forward, his face screwed up on one side as he thought. “A locket, a cup, a ring… could be literally anything. Most likely small though, and old.”

 

Luna and Cho shared another look, this time their lips pulling up into smiles. “We might know,” they said in unison. 

 

XXXXX

 

“It’s bloody insane,” Hermione snorted, returning a book to the library upstairs. Ron and Harry had sought her out early the following morning after heading to Bristol to discuss with the head of the Order. “Hogwarts? It’s more preposterous than Godric’s Hollow and you  _ both _ know how well Godric’s Hollow went. 

 

“Hey, we made it out alright,” Ron said quietly. 

 

Hermione whipped her face around and narrowed her eyes at him. "It was very nearly a bloodbath and there were near forty of us. You want the three of us to sneak into Hogwarts? And with Polyjuice, for crying out loud! That gives us, what? An hour? Maybe an hour and a half if we secure enough potion? It’s stupid.” 

 

“It’s  _ not _ stupid,” Harry argued, grabbing the book she was idly looking over and tossed it on a nearby chair. With a huff, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, turning to offer them her full, albeit annoyed, attention. “The last Quidditch game of the year is mandatory according to McGonagall, and Slytherin plays Gryffindor.” Harry suppressed a shudder. “Merlin help the Gryffindor team; I have a feeling that the game will be rigged and end in bloodshed.” 

 

“And so your plan is to what? Attend? Root on our old house?” Hermione quipped. 

 

“No,” Ron interjected, sitting on a nearby armchair and canting his head in her direction. “We need to make it to the Room of Requirement. Cho and Luna are sure the Diadem has been lost in the castle, so it’ll be there. We’ll need to make it from Gryffindor Tower to the seventh floor corridor and back. Staff and students should all be on the Quidditch pitch. It’ll be eas—”

 

Hermione silenced them with a quick raise of her palm. “Do not say it’ll be easy, Ron Weasley. We all know how fast things can turn around on us; it happens too often and we’ll be trapped in a castle where we can’t Apparate and we can’t run.”

 

“Hermione—” Harry loosened a tired breath. “We don’t have a choice. This is where we have to go and we could use you with us. Not only are we better together, but you’re clearly much more clever. We don’t have time to second guess ourselves. We need you.” 

 

His words tugged at her heartstrings. It didn’t matter if she refused; they were going. And sending them in without her could, and would, compromise their ability to make it out alive, and Harry and Ron had to survive this bloody war.

 

Hermione sighed. “When’s the game?”

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

With a groan, she turned back to the stacks. "Of bloody course it is."

 

XXXXX

 

She met Theo at Surrey house. Going there had felt wrong at first, but she told that part to skive off. They’d pushed the beds together in the smaller room, both still refusing to step foot into the room across the hall and were currently wrapped around each other in the glow of their shared orgasm. 

 

“I have a mission tomorrow,” she confessed quietly, her fingertip trailing through the small smattering of hair on his chest. 

 

Theo chuckled and tightened his hold on her. “We all do. Shouldn’t be too bad though, Remus said another raid. It was a little too close when we lost Trueman; I think they want to pull back until Potter finds the you-know-what.

 

She gulped and shook her head. “No, I mean—I have a different mission. I’m going with Harry to find the you-know-what.” Theo’s body froze; not even the rise and fall of his chest signified that he lived underneath her. “Theo?”

 

“Where are you going?” His voice was nervous, quiet even. She’d expected… well, she’d expected Malfoy’s bull in a china shop mentality.

 

Hermione rolled, folding her arms across his chest and resting her chin on her hands. “Going to our alma mater, actually.” A tight crease formed between her brows. “Can we call it that if we never finished with our certifications?” 

 

Theo’s eyes fluttered closed and he sucked in a short breath through his nose. “Granger, please tell me you aren’t going to Hogwarts...”

 

“The one and only,” she drawled, her brows rising high on her forehead. “The boys think there is something hidden there and it’s our best bet. The last Quidditch game is tomorrow, and the school should be empty. In and out in no time.” A false smile graced her lips and she tried to swallow the foreboding that she felt whenever she thought about the mission. “Listen, you’ll go and get supplies. I’ll get an ancient tiara and we will be back here by sunset. Deal?”

 

Studying the ceiling, Theo took a moment to speak, his lips pursing delicately before doing so. “Last time you went with them—”

 

“I know.” She cut him off. Malfoy existed in the empty spaces of her mind, and bringing him out into the open and between them would pop the bubble they found themselves in. In this bed—in each other's arms—they were safe from the guilt that accompanied talking about Malfoy’s death and the role it played in them finding a semblance of happiness together. 

 

Absently, Hermione played with her necklace, counting the holes in it as she chewed on her lip. Theo noticed, plucking it from her grasp and rubbing his thumb over its surface, a smile playing on his lips. 

 

Suddenly, it all felt too real. Hermione cleared her throat and rolled off his chest, lying next to him and joining him in staring at the ceiling.“It feels different this time. It’ll all be over soon,” she lied, trying to convince herself more than him. 

 

XXXXX

 

Theo tucked a curl behind her ear, letting his hand drift to the back of her neck and pulling her in until their foreheads rested together. 

 

“Watch your six. You never do…” he said, his voice tight and pinched. 

 

She chuckled and brushed her lips against his. “Why would I? You always do.” 

 

He pulled back to stare at her as the teams on the lawn clustered together. “In and out, right?” 

 

“Right.” Her lips flattened into a tight line and she nodded. “I’ll meet you back at Surrey house. Two hours.” 

 

“Nott! Let’s go!” one of the twins called loudly from near their Portkey and Hermione felt her anxiety twist like a knife in her belly. Everything felt too familiar, too close to a nightmare she still sometimes felt like she was waking from. 

 

“See you soon.” Theo’s eyes flashed with an unspoken confession, one they both didn’t dare speak into existence. 

 

“See you.” 

 

After another firm kiss, he jogged towards the rest of their team. With only a single wave over his shoulder, they disappeared in a pucker of magic and Hermione turned back to the boys waiting on the porch. 

 

They were going back to Hogwarts. 

 

XXXXX

 

**A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful feedback on the last chapter! I’m sorry that I’m giving so many of you trust issues… I’ve no idea at all why that would be. *Evil grin***

 

**So excited to continue sharing this story with you and I adore all of your reviews as they come across my inbox.**

 

**Alpha Love: MCal**

**Beta Babe: InDreams**

 

**Until next time, LK**

  
  



	27. Twenty-Seven

**You are getting this today because I have zero chill. I should wait… I** **_know_ ** **this. But alas, I cannot. Let’s do this.**

 

**XXXXX**

 

It didn’t matter how many years passed, Hermione was sure she’d never forget the distinct taste of Polyjuice and the way the bitter liquid coated her tongue. If she had to guess, this is what stale urine would taste like. 

 

The magic worked quickly through her body: shortening her legs, smoothing her curls, and darkening her skin. It was bloody weird, a sensation she wasn’t sure she could ever get used to. How Barty Crouch Jr. had managed it an entire year was beyond her. 

 

In turn, Harry had turned a bit stockier, his hair now a sandy blond and his eyes lightening into a pale, mossy green. When she turned to study Ron, she choked out a laugh. He was the tiniest of the bunch, acne bubbling over his face and a sad turn to his mouth. “Why does it feel like I got the worst Polyjuice?” 

 

“Because you did, mate.” Harry chuckled and tossed them all uniforms. Hermione caught hers in a heap, staring at the grey cardigan and emerald tie with a wrinkle to her nose. 

 

“ _ Slytherin _ ?” Ron asked with a withering glare, eyeing the pieces disdainfully. 

 

Harry tugged his shirt over his head, his words muffled by the fabric. “It’s the best bet we’ve got. Hopefully it’ll offer us some protection if we keep our noses down.” 

 

Hermione excused herself, not for her modesty, but for the young girl whose body she was inhabiting, and changed quickly. Staring down at the Hogwarts uniform and tying the emerald green tie around her neck, she swallowed a chuckle. Perhaps she’d hold onto the uniform; Theo would surely enjoy this bit of their mission later.

 

“Alright,” she breathed, joining them again. “Ready?”

 

“We’ll be Flooing straight into McGonagall’s office.” Harry’s low voice sounded strange coming from his borrowed body. “We just need to make it from the base of Gryffindor Tower to the seventh floor corridor and back. With the amount of Polyjuice, I’d say we have anywhere from forty-five minutes to an hour. We just need to keep our heads down and if we do run into someone—”

 

“Let’s just pray we don’t,” Hermione interrupted, grabbing a fistful of Floo powder and watching as her friends disappeared through the grate. 

 

XXXXX

 

McGonagall’s office was precisely as Hermione remembered: her desk was immaculately tidy and void of any personal mementos. And the same chairs the three of them had sat in a hundred times hadn’t moved an inch. There was a window overlooking the familiar Scottish countryside, and in the distance she could make out the Quidditch game starting out on the pitch. 

 

Craning her neck, she moved quietly for the door. “Let’s get this over with. Forty-five minutes and we’re back in this room.”

 

They stepped outside, scanning the hall for signs of life and finding none. They took off in a quick, purposeful march, their robes billowing behind them as they worked their way through the castle. 

 

Straight down the corridor. Three sets of stairs. Two lefts and a right. One more left. Another staircase… should be just around the corner to the… 

 

With a relieved sigh and a pounding heart, her gaze fell to the tapestry on the wall. She’d seen it countless times, had searched for it before every DA meeting, but why had she never  _ seen _ it before. It was utterly ridiculous, trolls learning ballet, and as Harry made his hasty trek back and forth in front of it, brows furrowed in concentration, she found herself lost in the memory of this place. 

 

Blooming from a spot in the center, twirling and materializing, double doors appeared, opening proudly. 

 

It was nothing like the room that had presented itself for their Dumbledore’s Army meetings. Every surface was covered, every corner stuffed full of nonsense and broken trash. 

 

“It’ll be here?” Ron said skeptically, scratching at a pimple on his neck. 

 

Harry nodded, his brows knitting together. “It’s here; I can feel it.” Hermione and Ron shared a look and they each took a step towards him, flanking him until they stood in a tight triangle, staring out at the chaos of the room. “Let’s spread out. This place is bigger than I remember and we are looking for a trinket in a hurricane.” 

 

Hermione’s features were pinched tightly as she turned to her right, caution tugging at her features as she poked and prodded at the different stacks of broken things. From somewhere behind her, she heard a loud clatter followed by a crash and Ron growling expletives. 

 

She chuckled to herself as she opened a jewelry box, sifting through the baubles nestled within. A tingle of magic shimmered through her hands and she stared at them closely, watching as her fingernails shifted back and forth between hers and her borrowed ones. The Polyjuice wasn’t strong enough. They had less time than they thought. 

 

“Can you guys feel that?” she called over her shoulder. “The potion—it’s—”

 

“Yeah,” Harry shouted back. “We’re fucked. It’s here, though. We’re not leaving without it.” 

 

Time didn’t slow, not for them—not for anyone. For the first time ever, Hermione hoped for a long Quidditch match. 

 

XXXXX

 

Towers of furniture, books, and other unidentifiable garbage crashed in the center of the room and Hermione started. Counting to ten, she waited for a shout that all was well. 

 

“I’VE GOT IT!” Harry’s voice rang clearly through the room and Hermione grinned, ignoring the bubbling sensation of the waning Polyjuice across her skin. 

 

They were out of time. 

 

She ran as fast as her feet would carry her towards the mouth of the room, nearly crashing into Ron. Not Ron’s imitated form—but  _ Ron.  _

 

_ “ _ Shit,” she cursed, feeling her features expand and pull, stretching until she could tell she was herself again. 

 

“Let’s get out of here; with any luck the game is still going. We’ve got a handful of staircases and we’re home free with another Horcr—” Ron and Hermione both shot Harry a look and he groaned. “I hate these fucking taboos. Let’s get out of here.” 

 

Hermione tied her hair up on top of her head and gripped her wand tightly as they faced the wide double doors. “Are we running?” she asked quietly. 

 

“We are. Eyes up and don’t stop if we can help it.” Harry’s voice held that air or authority that Hermione always coveted and both her and Ron stood proudly at his side. 

 

The doors parted, and as soon as there was enough room, the three of them were tearing around the corner. Their shoes slapped against the stone floor, mimicking the rhythmic pounding of her heart against her ribs. 

 

It was just a left and a staircase… then was it right? No… They stuttered and crashed into each other and Hermione felt a bead of sweat slide down her temple as they bounded up the staircase… and then another. And another. 

 

Just as they entered the final corridor, McGonagall’s office just a few yards away, two vibrant stripes of magic soared down the hall, crashing into the stone wall next to them. 

 

They didn’t stop. The plan was to keep moving.  _ Don’t stop _ . Hermione turned over her shoulder, throwing a stunner that ricocheted off a wall and crashed into a wooden door, blowing it open. 

 

“ _ Stop _ !” A thick voice bellowed down the hall and it was Harry’s turn to sling a wild curse behind them. 

 

Hermione felt a burst of magic clip her ankle, causing her to stumble and crash to the stone floor. Harry and Ron faltered, clambering towards her and grabbing her under her arms. “Stop! Or I’ll curse her faster than you can breathe, Potter.” 

 

Harry and Ron stilled. It was no longer an option to turn and run, not without risking a curse to the back. They hauled Hermione to her feet and shielded her by stepping in front. Sucking in shallow breaths, Hermione lifted her gaze, glaring at a man and woman that she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before. Their thin faces were twisted with grotesque yellowing grins and Hermione could feel their inky dark magic crawling down the hall towards them. She knew them, even if she didn’t know them. She’d heard well enough about the siblings tainting Hogwarts: The Carrows. 

 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry curl his arm behind his back, shaking the diadem at her. Fixing her stare on the brother and sister down the hall, she took the artefact and tucked it into her charmed bag with as little movement as possible. It felt heavy, not in its physical weight, but in the darkness it carried, pulsing against her thigh like a beacon. 

 

“The Headmaster will be pleased to see you, Potter,” the woman called out with a crooked grin. “You don’t mind if we escort you ourselves, do you?”

 

“Actually,” Harry said with an indignant sneer. “I do.” 

 

Hermione could hear the crackle of magic from Harry’s wand before he’d even had a chance to cast and she didn’t miss the way the Carrows’ faces lit up with the anticipation of a fight. 

 

Her eyes fluttered closed and she sucked in a deep breath, focusing on the memories that hurt, the ones that had broken her. She focused on Dolohov in that camp talking about Malfoy and how much she’d wanted to kill him in that moment. She thought about Trueman and Anthony and Cormac and  _ Draco. _ Fire and hate and utter loathing twisted in her belly, and as soon as Harry cast the first spell, her wand came up, twisting over her head as she barreled her magic towards the end of the corridor. 

 

The three of them stayed tight, moving in tandem. Ron lifted a shield as Harry and Hermione shot out quick jets of magic that were easily deflected by the Carrows, and when Ron’s shield faltered, Hermione fell to her knee and brought up a  _ Protego _ at the last moment. 

 

There was an intensity to the boys that felt familiar; they were casting to kill. For a single moment, the echoes of her conscience warred inside her, but the truth settled in her belly like a stone. In this moment, it was killed or be killed. 

 

“I’ll shield,” Harry gritted, his casting slipping from the sheer voracity of his magic being expelled. 

 

Hermione groaned her assent and dropped her  _ Protego _ , taking a quick step forward and slicing her wand through the air with a shouted, “ _ Secare!” _

 

She watched as a bright cut of red stained the male Carrow’s shirt, colouring it crimson as he fell to his knees clutching his abdomen. His sister was distracted, if only for a moment, and Harry dropped his shield as Ron cast the killing curse on the woman. 

 

As her body slumped next to her brother, who was still choking and coughing on his blood, reaching for his dead sister, Hermione felt her guilt heavy in her lungs. Her breath started to turn erratic and she blinked a few times at their broken bodies just a few yards away. 

 

The Golden Trio. _ Killers _ . 

 

Harry reached for her hand, gripping it tightly, pouring his love into the simple touch. “They  _ Crucio _ first years for fun. They encourage the harassment and assault of Muggle-borns. They deserve worse than this.” 

 

Hermione swallowed down the hot feeling in her throat and nodded. Ron tugged her into a hug, and she buried her face in his chest for a moment as she squeezed Harry’s hand. 

 

“Well, well, well.”  _ Snape _ . The three of them jumped away, lifting their wands as they stared at their old professor. 

 

Hermione felt her lips curl in disdain at the newly appointed Headmaster and murderer of Albus Dumbledore. If she had so easily cast down a Carrow, he had no chance. Not against them. Her magic pulsed in her hand, begging to be used. 

 

Studying him, Hermione noticed that Snape’s wand wasn’t drawn, his hands folded neatly over his chest as he came into full view, staring at the blood leaking onto the corridor floor and the ruined bodies lying in its midst. 

 

“I do hope you were at least successful in your mission, Potter.” His lazy drawl was all too familiar but his words… Her wand hand wavered, and gritting her teeth, she forced it back. “Go on.” Snape nodded towards the opposite end of the hall. “Slytherin has just won the house cup and these halls will be full soon enough.” He waved a hand in their direction and Hermione let out an exasperated huff. 

 

He was…  _ letting them go _ ?

 

With an audible groan, Snape drew his wand and tossed it in the corner of the corridor. One brow perched high on his forehead, he peered down his nose at them. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

 

The three of them shared a nervous look, unwilling to trust him… but they were so bloody close.  _ So close. _

 

“Let’s go, Harry,” Ron said quietly, urging him with a nod of his head, and the three of them began retreating, unable to turn their backs on their one time professor. 

 

They had made it only a few steps when something flickered over Snape’s features and he stepped towards them. “Miss Granger, do tell Draco you’ve seen me today. Let him know I kept my promise.”

 

Hermione froze, her heart seizing painfully in her chest before resuming in an erratic rhythm. “Draco Malfoy died months ago.” The words tasted like vinegar on her tongue and she swallowed the bile that threatened to rise up to greet her. 

 

Something flashed over Snape’s normally stoic expression and he took another quick step in their direction. Distantly, she could hear the clatter of Gryffindor students returning to their tower, and before a question could form on her lips, Ron was gripping her elbow and dragging her towards McGonagall’s office. 

 

As they slipped inside, diadem still tucked safely away, she managed a final look at her old professor, his brows furrowed in concern as students trickled into the corridor, screaming at the blood pooling at their feet. 

 

XXXXX

 

She stumbled through the grate at Grimmauld, clutching her charmed bag to her chest as she found her bearings. 

 

They were okay. All of them. 

 

Staring at her friends, a disbelieving laugh lilted through the air. Harry and Ron stared at her as though she’d grown horns, each taking a tentative step away from her. “Do you ever feel like we’re cats?” she asked, a chuckle chasing her words. “Sometimes I can’t believe how often we survive this bullshite?”

 

Harry barked out a laugh. “Don’t think on it too much,” he smirked. “It just makes less sense the more you do.” 

 

Ron grinned. “Let’s see it and destroy it. Sooner the better.” 

 

With a tight smile, Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out the diadem, laying it flat in her palm. “It’s so beautiful.” 

 

Harry snorted. “It’s housing a fractional part of You-Know-Who’s soul. The fucker tried to kill a one-year-old baby.” 

 

Suddenly, Gofer shot through the window, flying low and hooting obnoxiously on repeat. Hermione jumped, nearly dropping the diadem before Ron reached out to catch it. Smirking as he did, he muttered something about being the best Keeper Gryffindor ever saw. 

 

Rolling her eyes, Hermione batted at Gofer still sweeping through the room. “Gofer! What on earth!” Finally, in a bumbling heap, the owl slammed into the Grandfather clock and fell softly to the floor. Not missing a beat, he jumped to his feet, staring at the three of them with an angry scowl as he hopped closer to Hermione. 

 

“ _ Hoot. _ ”

 

“Right,” Hermione said, folding her lips into a tight line and nodding. “Do you have a note, Gofer?”

 

His feathers tufted up, his eyes narrowing. “ _ Hoot. _ ”

 

Hermione chuckled. “Gofer, you know I don’t speak owl, yeah? Are you okay?”

 

“ _ Hoot.” _

 

With a loud sigh, Hermione shook her head and turned back to the boys. “I’m off to Surrey house. Tell Moody I’ll debrief later, yeah?”

 

_ “Hoot! Hoot! HOOT!” _

 

“Gofer!” Hermione admonished with a cluck of her tongue. As she disappeared out the back door, she ignored the loud, strangled hoot from Gofer and made her way towards the Apparition point. 

 

XXXXX

 

She landed quietly, skirt swishing around her thighs as she grinned to herself. Theo was going to lose his mind when he saw her in this little getup. Stepping past the wards, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, knowing he was probably already settled on the couch waiting for her. 

 

She ran into a broad chest, nearly tumbling back, and she cursed under her breath as her gaze lifted. 

 

The blood drained from her face, panic rising in her chest as she studied the man she’d collided with. Tall and lean, pale like fresh snow and storm cloud colored eyes. Her breath hitched, her brows furrowing as she tried to reconcile how a ghost could be  _ here. _ He hadn’t died here, after all. 

 

But then, there was the fact that his eyes were flickering with life. His hands on her waist were warm and crushing and his breath was fanning over her face. 

 

She clenched her eyes shut, unsure what she wanted to see when she reopened them. He couldn’t be here… she knew that.  _ She knew that. _

 

Peeking through her lashes, a disbelieving sob echoed from her chest as her hands slapped over her mouth. He was still there, smirking at her as though not a single day had passed. As though he hadn’t  _ died. _

 

She lifted her palms, hovering them over his chest for a moment before laying them flat, sobbing when she felt the steady drumming of his heart under her fingertips. “… _ Draco _ ?” 

 

His smirk widened, and slower than he’d ever moved before, his lips brushed softly against hers. It woke her; she’d kissed these lips before. She knew them intimately, had kissed them a hundred times. Before the kiss had a chance to deepen, he pulled back, resting his forehead lightly against hers, a smile bright on his lips. 

 

“ _ I promised you I’d come back _ .” 

 

**XXXXX**

 

**A/N:** **_Gulp._ ** **I always love all your feedback and appreciate you taking time to read this story at all!**

 

**Biggest of hugs and love to MCal and InDreams, my alpha/beta babes.**

 

**Until next time, LK**

  
  
  



	28. Twenty-Eight

**** This chapter contains direct and altered dialogue from the film Pearl Harbor. ****

 

One breath. 

 

Two. 

 

Three. 

 

 _It’s not possible._ Draco was dead. He’d died and she’d mourned him. 

 

But against all reason, she was touching him. Resting her hands on his chest, she explored the firm planes of him and the warmth that hummed under her palms. Lifting her gaze to study his face, her lips pressed into a hard line. He was free of injury; not even a shadow of a bruise marred his perfect skin.He looked like he’d never left, like the last five and a half months had not happened at all. 

 

“This isn’t possible,” she breathed, tears striping down her cheeks as she lifted her quivering fingers to trace the sharp lines of his jaw. Clenching her eyes shut, Hermione let out a broken breath. “You can’t be here.”

 

“Shh, don’t cry,” Draco whispered, cradling her face and wiping the tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “I’m here. Everything’s okay.” 

 

Hermione’s knees buckled and she nearly crumpled to the dirt, but before she could, Draco was supporting her, guiding her towards the house. Her feet obeyed, trudging forward slowly without her cognizant recognition, and as she sank onto the couch, tears once again surged forward. 

 

Her ribs tightened painfully, her breath coming in short, erratic bursts and once again she lifted her hand to his cheek. “How are you here? You died.” 

 

His signature smirk, the one that could never be properly imitated, curled his lips upward and he lifted his hand to covers hers, sliding it from his cheek to kiss her palm. “I almost forgot how fucking beautiful you are…” he confessed, shaking his head. “It’s a long story, maybe not one for right now.  They took me to the Manor. I was held there for a couple weeks until Snape—”

 

“ _Snape_?” 

 

Draco chuckled darkly. “Yeah, I know. He got Mother and I out. I wasn’t—” Draco gulped, his pale skin turning a distinct shade of gray. “I wasn’t doing so well. The few weeks I did spend down in the fucking dungeon weren’t exactly a holiday…” Something flashed behind his silver gaze and he glanced away, swallowing before speaking again. “It doesn’t matter. It took a while for me to be me again. Even then, Mother didn’t want me to go.” 

 

“ _Go_?” The space between her brows crinkled and she shifted in her seat, drawing forward fractionally just to be nearer to him. “Where were you?” 

 

His dark gaze fell to their clasped hands and he ran his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m not sure exactly; somewhere in Spain. I tried _everything_ to get back to you, Granger. Mother was a wreck after seeing me in such a state, didn’t want me to step foot outside to see the sun, let alone head back to the war-front.”

 

“Then how are you here?”  Every word from his lips pulled her from the chasm of disbelief she had found herself in. He was here. He was alive. 

 

Draco’s eyes sparkled, his lips quirking up in a shy smile. “I told her how much I loved you. How I needed to see this all end properly and get back to you. It took her a while—a long while—but she gave me her wand. That was this morning; I came straight here to wait for you.” 

 

Hermione sucked in cracked breaths as a torrent of overwhelming emotions surged inside her: elation and misplaced anger and grief. He’d been alive this whole time and she’d been lost, wading through a hurricane just to stay afloat. 

 

“Hey,” he crooned, cradling her face and turning her to look up at him. “I’m never leaving you again. Okay?” His gray eyes darkened as he looked at her with such reverence that a sob burst from her lungs and she succumbed to her tears, burying her face in his chest and breathing in the scent of him, again and again and again. 

 

There was a wisp of a thought, just barely there and begging to be fully formed, but before she gave it any attention, Draco tilted her face up to his, slanting his mouth over hers with a tender yet hungry kiss that she felt coil around her heart. She felt breathless and overwhelmed as his fingers threaded her curls, pulling her deeper, and just as he parted his lips, pillowing her bottom with his and begging for entry, that wisp turned to a howl. 

 

_Theo._

 

She gasped, ripping away from his touch and burying her face in her hands as she sobbed. “ _Oh my god_ ,” she cried. 

 

“Hey.” His voice was low and he scooted closer, reaching out to touch her, but all of a sudden being this close to the man she had fallen in love with felt like a betrayal. Shooting up from the couch, she wrapped her arms around herself and let the tears fall freely over her cheeks as she avoided looking at him. “It’s okay. I know it’s been hard, but it’s over now. I’m here and we’re together—”

 

Hermione’s eyes shot to his for a sliver of a moment before darting away again.  “Draco— _you died_.”

 

Draco rose to his feet, squinting as he studied her and ready to take her in his arms and kiss away her worries and she… she couldn’t. Clenching her eyes shut, Hermione wrapped her arms tighter around herself, trying in vain to keep her broken pieces from falling apart. 

 

“Granger…” The tone of his voice shifted and he stared at with a bewildered expression. “We’re together. Aren’t we?” 

 

She’d been so lost in her despair that she didn’t hear the familiar sound of Apparition outside. Didn’t realize anyone had arrived until the door pushed open behind Draco’s shoulder and Theo walked briskly in, freezing when his eyes landed on Draco’s back. 

 

“ _Theo_ ,” she whispered, his name floating through the air and slamming into him as he stared between Hermione and Draco. 

 

Draco turned, a smile forming on his lips for his friend but it fell quickly.  Theo’s eyes blew wide and round and his gaze settled on Hermione with a nervous edge. 

 

“Malfoy?” he choked out, advancing into the room with a disbelieving twist to his features. “What— _how_?”

 

Draco’s face whipped around to stare again at Hermione; she could see the pieces clicking into place in his mind. “ _No…_ ” he breathed, his words merely an echo of his breath as he stumbled away from her, catching his grip on the end of the sofa. 

 

“Malfoy?” Theo asked again, his voice low. He pressed forward, hands raised as if Draco was a wounded animal he was scared of spooking. 

 

“ _Don’t_.” Draco’s voice trembled as he stared at nothing, blinking as his mind churned with impossible information. After a painful moment, he gave Theo a wide berth as he made for the front door. 

 

Her heart called for him; she wanted to beg him to stay, beg him to come back and just let her look at him awhile longer. After all, he’d promised not to leave her again… but that was _before._ Before he’d known about her betrayal. Frantically, she wiped her cheeks, choking out breaths as she tried to form a coherent thought. 

 

“Don’t follow me.” Draco stared at the pair of them with a disgusted scowl. “Don’t fucking follow me.” 

 

He was gone before Hermione could say a word. The door crashed shut behind him, and she sunk in a heap of despair to the couch, staring at the floorboards. Her throat felt hot and tight as she sucked in desperate breaths, flinching at the sound of his Apparition from past the wards. 

 

“How is this possible?” Theo asked, his voice devoid of any emotion. 

 

Hermione couldn’t answer. Couldn’t do more than shake her head. Theo took a small step towards her and she flinched away from him, tucking her chin into her chest. Everything was so unbelievably fucked up. Ugly sobs wracked through her body, and without looking, she knew the way Theo’s features were flickering with his pain. When he retreated back towards the door and into neutral territory, she let out a sigh of relief.  

 

“It’ll be okay, Hermione.” He swallowed thickly. “I’ll find him. I’ll fix this.” Theo moved for the door, wrenching it open but pausing before he stepped over the threshold. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

 

Hermione sniffled, nodding and using the back of her wrist to wipe the fluid leaking from every orifice on her face. “You too. I’m sorry, I’m just—”

 

“I know,” he interrupted, his lips curling in a knowing smile. “And hey—I like your outfit.” She looked down at her ridiculous Slytherin tie and school uniform and choked out a watery laugh. Theo grinned at her. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

 

Hermione nodded, letting her eyes drift to where her hands were wringing painfully on her lap; her knuckles were white, skin red and blotchy. When the door closed behind him, she let herself fall apart. _Really_ fall apart. Every piece that had splintered away in December had been lovingly mended these past few weeks. With tender care, she had stitched and repaired her ruined heart until she felt like she could only see the scars, no longer the wound. 

 

Not anymore. 

 

Every sob felt like a serrated knife carving away at her until she was so lost to desperate gasps of air and broken sobs that she simply fell asleep. 

 

 

XXXXX

 

Hermione woke to the cold front room of Surrey house. Her eyes blinked open, settling on the waning crescent moon outside the hazy window, and she pushed herself up to seated. Her limbs felt drenched with her grief, heavy and useless at her sides, and the puffiness to her eyelids after her long bout of crying made even blinking a chore. 

 

She focused on what she could. On small, manageable steps like breathing. But as she tried to fill her lungs with purposeful breaths, they stuttered and fresh tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. 

 

One step. Then another. That’s all she had to do. 

 

Rising to her feet, she made a sluggish trek to the smaller room that she so often shared with Theo when they snuck away from Canterbury. There were some clothes left here, some jeans and a t-shirt, an old jumper that was a touch too big now that her baby fat had been replaced with war-torn muscle. 

 

After she’d shed her ridiculous outfit from what felt like days ago, even though it was merely a handful of hours, she changed quickly and made for the washroom. She took a moment to study herself, the blotchiness lingering on her swollen cheeks and her barely opened eyelids, puffy from crying. 

 

She looked wretched. With a quick splash of cold water on her face and an exhausted sigh from her lips she turned, quickly exiting Surrey house and making for the wards. 

 

Landing in Canterbury, she stared up at the broad country house with a puckered brow and a weight settled on her chest. Out back, a reaching bonfire shot up into the night air and her friends were gathered round, sipping on bottles of beer and glasses of whisky with quiet contemplation. 

 

“Hello,” she said tightly. “Are they—”

 

Luna jumped to her feet, moving swiftly towards her friend and touching her elbows softly. “Are you okay? Draco showed up in some sort of way and—”

 

Hermione’s lashes fluttered until they kissed her cheeks and she sucked in a tight breath. “Are they here?” she managed, pressing her lips into a flat line. 

 

“Malfoy, Seamus, and Dean left. I don’t know where they went, but it seemed like they were sneaking off with the intent of…” Luna’s pale gaze shot up to catch Hermione’s and her mouth turned downward. “ _Forgetting,_ if you catch my meaning.” 

 

Hermione cleared her throat and nodded. “And Theo?” 

 

“He’s up front.” She jerked her chin gently towards the house. “I think he’s waiting for Malfoy.”

 

“Right,” Hermione said with a tight grimace that was meant to be a smile. “Excuse me.” She turned on her heel, tucking her chin into her chest. Before she’d made it even a handful of steps, Luna had called out her name. 

 

“Are you, though? Are you okay?” 

 

Hermione swallowed what felt like a jagged shard of glass and turned back towards her friend. “No.” 

 

XXXXX

 

Theo was there, resting his forearms on the front banister and studying the label of his beer with great interest. Shrouded in darkness, she allowed herself a quiet, simple moment to study him. 

 

For the last few weeks, she had refused to linger on what she and Theo had become. They just… _were._ Complicated only if she let her mind wander, and by keeping her mind otherwise preoccupied, she avoided that tricky little snare. She had found happiness with him, _easy_ happiness. There were no haunted pasts to overcome, no snarky remarks—no fighting. 

 

 _He_ didn’t constantly try to pull the strings of her life in a fallacy of protecting her. _He_ didn’t argue with her about the most ridiculous things. _He_ didn’t… he didn’t…

 

“You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.” Theo’s soft voice interrupted her thoughts; with a few slow blinks her lips quirked up and she stepped into the soft ambient light of the front yard. 

 

“Bollocks. I’m very sneaky—” she teased, a false lightness coloring her words. Climbing up the front steps, she made her way towards him, leaning her bum on the bannister. “I’ve caught the last three flags, after all.”

 

Theo snorted, nudging her with his shoulder. “Yeah, you’ve got a good partner. What good’s a Gryffindor without someone watching their arse?” 

 

Dropping her gaze to the floorboards, a genuine smile spread over her lips. “Always watching my six?”

 

“Of course.” he huffed, tipping his beer to his lips and swallowing. “If I didn’t, who would?” 

 

A long moment of silence stretched on, heavy and soaked with unspoken words. 

 

She parted her lips to speak, but before a word drifted into the air they heard the sound of Apparition past the wards. Their faces snapped towards each other and they shared in a stark gasp of air. 

 

Despite what she wanted to believe, this felt like an ending. An end of something that had been a beautiful beam of light in the bleak, unending darkness. She wanted to linger here, to breathe in what life had been like with Theo before all hell broke loose and they were forced to confront what was now crossing the lawn. 

 

Theo admired her; there was a softness to his gaze that startled her and she felt a tear track its way down her face. His hand settled on the curve of her cheek and he smiled sadly at her. “I need you to know. No matter what—” He gulped. 

 

“Theo,” she whined, shaking her head as impossibly hot emotion climbed up her throat and threatened to choke her. 

 

He dropped his lips to her forehead, pressing a firm kiss as she let out a broken little sob. “ _I love you_.” 

 

His words were quiet, barely audible, but she felt them in her hollow chest like a warming ember. 

 

“Well, if you two aren’t a sight for sore eyes.” Malfoy’s bored drawl slid through the space between them and Theo dropped his hand from her cheek, stealing a final glance before turning towards the lawn with a tight jaw. 

 

“You’re back,” Theo called. “Ready to talk?” 

 

Malfoy stepped into the light, his lips curled into a scowl with Seamus and Dean at his side. “You still sleeping with my girl, Nott?”

 

“Don’t be an arse,” Theo snorted, leaving her side, a chill kissing her skin in his wake. 

 

“Then I’ve got nothing to talk to you about. Piss off.” Malfoy’s silver stare lingered on her, hard and full of hate. “Both of you.” She felt his words like a hot knife between her ribs and watched as the four of them disappeared around the side of the house towards the back. 

 

She was left alone with the quiet, the kind that suffocated her until she couldn’t think. When she could bear it no longer, she turned and made her way quietly through the house, stopping at the wall of windows in the kitchen and staring at the bonfire reaching up towards the heavens. 

 

Against the vibrant light of the flames, Hermione could make out the silhouettes of her friends, and with a heavy step, she made her way out and across the lawn. 

 

“To Malfoy!” Seamus boasted with a drunken step. “Coming back from behind enemy lines!”

 

The group of them awkwardly tilted their drinks to the air as Harry jumped from his seat and rushed to her side at the fringe of the circle. “What in the bloody hell is going on, Hermione?” he hissed into her ear. She couldn’t answer, couldn’t think. 

 

“Another toast!” Draco called loudly, tipping a pilfered bottle of whisky into the air. “To coming back from the dead.” Malfoy’s sneer fell on her and she felt it twist her insides painfully. All the times she’d imagined what it would be like to see him again… she never thought it would be like this. “It’s not all I thought it’d be—but that’s life.” 

 

Tension spread around the fire and a few of them even rose to stand, pushing back from the epicenter and allowing Theo to take his place in front of Draco, hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets as he spoke in a hushed voice to his friend. 

 

“Can we talk, mate?” 

 

Draco’s lip curled. “I’m not your mate. I used to be. There’s a difference.” Wiping the whisky from his chin, Draco once again lifted the bottle proudly in the air. “One more toast, shall we? To Theo—keeping up the war effort back at home. Do you lot know he was even good enough to look after my girl for me?”

 

Hermione’s breath caught painfully, her jaw trembling as Harry’s arm wound protectively around her waist, dragging her into his side. Draco offered the bottle to Theo, his pale gaze flashing dangerously even in the darkness. Theo didn’t grab it, didn’t move more than to breathe. “Where I come from,” Draco continued, “If someone makes a toast to you and you don’t take it, that’s saying something.” 

 

Theo scoffed. “It’s gonna be like that? Fine, Malfoy. It’s gonna be like that.”

Grabbing the bottle forcefully, Theo brought it to his lips. When he finished he took an impassioned step towards his friend.

 

“How’s it feel warming my side of the bed, Nott?” Malfoy stepped into Theo’s space, their chests bumping. “How’s it feel knowing she chose you just because she couldn’t have me?” Neville shot up from his seat, placing his hands on their chests in an effort to separate them even marginally.

 

Rolling his eyes, Theo took a step back. “You’re a rotten drunk; you always have been. Sleep it off, Malfoy.” 

 

“Yeah? Well you’re a lousy friend and that’s a new development.” Another long pull from the bottle. 

 

That caused Theo to pause and he rounded back, his lips pulled back and the veins in his throat protruding as he tried to reign in the obvious warring emotions inside him. “ _We thought you were dead!”_   Theo cried, clutching at his chest. “And it gutted us both—you’ve no idea what we’ve been through. What _she’s_ been through. We were just trying to get on with our lives…”

 

Hermione made to take a step forward but Harry’s hand curled around her, keeping her steady. 

 

“Yeah? Life’s good for you isn’t it, Theo?”

 

“You left! You left and you made damn sure that we didn’t go with you and we thought _you were dead!”_

 

Draco threw the bottle into the fire, earning a proud lick of flames towards the dark sky as his voice climbed to a feral shout. “I almost did die, you son of a bitch! Her face was the last thing that went through my mind!” His pointed finger found Hermione in the darkness and her knees buckled as Harry supported her weight. “So don’t you dare fucking stand here like everything’s alright!”

 

Theo’s shoulders slumped, his voice defeated. “Yeah, Malfoy, well I stayed. I stayed and things changed and you need to get used to that.”

 

“ _I_ need to get used to it?” Draco’s pale brows lifted high on his forehead and he smirked.  “Okay.” Faster than Hermione thought possible, he clipped Theo’s chin with a quick jab, sending Theo to his knees as Draco screamed nonsensical obscenities behind him. 

 

“ _Draco!”_ Hermione screamed, sliding from Harry’s hold as she rushed towards Theo, hunched over on his knees. 

 

“ _That-son-of-a-bitch,”_ Theo growled and rushed to his feet, tackling Draco to the ground and landing a punch to his side. The two Slytherins exchanged hit after hit to each other’s body as Hermione screamed at both of them. Finally, Neville and the twins pulled them apart and the two were standing there with heaving chests and bloodied faces. 

 

Hermione hid under her palms, shaking as she broke down in a fit of wails. 

 

“ _After everything we’ve been through, Nott?_ ” Malfoy cried out, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Neville attempted to pull him back; Malfoy snapped his arm from his hold. “Someone tell me where I can get some fucking sleep tonight that’s not near either of these two.”

 

Seamus stepped forward, nodding towards the house. “There’s a room upstairs. They usually sleep at Surrey house.” 

 

With a scoff, Malfoy stomped towards past Theo and towards Hermione, staring down his nose at her with a disappointed scowl. “Of course they do.” 

 

“Draco!” Hermione cried as he walked away. He didn’t turn back for her, just continued stomping over the lawn until he was safely tucked inside. She turned towards Theo, sitting on the ground and wiping the blood from his face with a sad slump to his shoulders. 

 

Harry saddled up next to her, baring his teeth in an uncomfortable grimace. “Well, this is bloody awkward.” 

 

Hermione choked out a watery little noise. “Awkward doesn’t even begin to fucking cover it.”

 

**XXXXX**

 

**A/N: I am positively GIDDY over the response to the last chapter. So thank you all for making my day with your lovely reviews! You’ve waited long and patiently for a love triangle and I shall deliver it to you fast and furiously.**

 

**Endless praise to MCal and InDreams for all their tireless work on this little thing of mine.**

 

**Until next time - LK**

 


	29. Twenty-Nine

Hermione didn't make it to Surrey house. Didn't even make it upstairs. She made it exactly as far as the sofa in the sitting room where Luna shoved a vial into her palm. It wasn't until she was being lulled to a swift slumber that she realized it was Dreamless Sleep.

In the dull early morning light, she blinked awake. The normal bustle of the morning was in full swing, and yet again, her housemates seemed completely unaffected by the details of the night before that were still haunting her.

All she wanted was to escape. Maybe she'd make her way to Grimmauld, hide there until the end of the war.

Before she could properly wake, she heard Remus' voice in the kitchen rounding them up.

Groaning, she stood and made a slow trek towards the commotion. She felt depleted after all the crying and emotional upheaval from the last twenty-four hours; her wrists and ankles felt like they had weights attached to them and moving them in the slightest took great effort.

Hermione cut through the crowd, finding a space near the reading nook in the far corner and hiding as Remus garnered the attention of the room.

"Alright, you lot. I've got a few things to discuss." Remus' hazel stare found hers, and her breath hitched at the pity lingering there. "First, Moody's knickers are all in a twist over those of you who chose not to debrief properly in light of yesterday's… _revelations._ Granger, Nott—where is Nott?"

An awkward silence settled over them and Neville cleared his throat. "I think he went to Surrey house, sir. We haven't seen him since last night."

"Right." Remus swallowed. "Send him a Patronus will you? Tell him he's due at Bristol house immediately to debrief. Granger, you as well."

"Yes, sir." Hermione's voice sounded foreign to her ears, quiet and timid, missing the fire that had been burning so fiercely. She had no fight left in her today.

Over the heads of her housemates, a sleepy, possibly hungover, Draco appeared. As if drawn to her, his gaze landed on her immediately. Something flashed behind his eyes that looked almost like relief before they hardened again and she saw the muscles of his throat flex.

"Malfoy, there you are," Remus called over the crowd. "Moody would like to speak to you as well. He wants you there at noon, so clear your schedule for most of the afternoon."

Malfoy snorted, settling into his spot against the door frame with a bored shrug. "Wide open."

Even though Hermione studied the tile flooring with all of her attention, she could still feel the eyes on her. The heat of a dozen stares waiting for her inevitable breakdown was suffocating.

"Finally, we've got a mission tomorrow. Both Phoenix and Thunderbird are on this one, and we will be briefing tonight with Tonks, O'Connor, _and_ Moody. This is a big one, team. We think we're getting close to the end of this and we need all of you to stay extra—"

"VIGILANT!" A few of them shouted from the fringes.

"Precisely." Remus chuckled to himself and rubbed his palm over his cheek with a loud sigh. "See you lot tonight. Granger? You're with me."

That feeling of being watched returned but Hermione didn't raise her eyes to confirm. Instead, she shuffled quietly through the crowd, following behind Remus as they made their way out into the chilly spring morning.

Once on the lawn, Remus paused, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets and turning towards her. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," she admitted with a sniff. "How could I be?"

He responded with a nod and an awkward half-hug that left her with a smile. "I'm sure there are worse things," he grimaced, "than having two boys so fully in love with you."

Tears welled in her eyes and she scoffed. "Doesn't feel like it."

"Yes, well. Tonks will be the first to tell you I'm rather shite at making girls feel better—forgive me."

That earned a surprised laugh, and with another soft squeeze around her shoulders, Hermione followed him past the wards.

XXXXX

Trotting down the stairs after a mind-numbing debriefing, Hermione felt the familiar thrumming of a headache blooming at the back of her skull.

She was someone who had answers. People came to _her_ when they had problems, and using her unparalleled wit and abounding cleverness, she solved them.

Why couldn't she solve her own?

"Hey, you." At the base of the stairs, looking as tired and mentally fucked as she felt, was Theo. His lips quirked up in that lopsided little half-smile that she loved but his eyes were guarded, almost like he was preparing himself for the worst.

She gave him a weak smile in return and stopped on the stair above him. "Hey."

"How was it? Moody in one of his pleasant moods, I hope?"

She shook her head with a chuckle. "I don't think I've ever seen one of those, so your guess is as good as mine. I don't know how he doesn't get bored hearing the same information from a dozen of us."

"Agreed." Tension spread thick in the air between them and as she wrung her hands nervously together, she saw his fingers flinch towards her before drawing safely back to his side. "Maybe we should talk later?"

Smiling, Hermione nodded in agreement and leaned in to give him a soft, albeit awkward, kiss on the cheek. Without another word, she crossed the foyer and made her way out into the warm late-morning sun. She realized she didn't really have anywhere to go; there was the meeting tonight, which would mean training tomorrow. Canterbury felt too small and Surrey felt too… well, Surrey. Maybe Grimmauld with the boys, although they were destined to chitter her ear off about Horcruxes even though she'd bloody well been on the same mission.

Counting the holes in her necklace, she sank against one of the columns and stared at the emerald grass. Lost in the quiet of the country, and trying in vain to compartmentalize, she didn't hear the shuffling of feet up the pavement.

A throat cleared and she jumped, eyes rounding at the unexpected sight of Draco as she tucked her pendant in her shirt and stared back at him. "Is _he_ up there?"

"Yes. He was heading up as I finished." She swore he must have been able to hear the frantic pounding of her heart and she swallowed down the hot guilt rising up her throat. Opening her mouth, words failed her and she grimaced before mashing her lips closed.

Part of her expected him to storm past her and inside but he didn't. Instead, he rested his hands on the bannister and took a slow, purposeful breath as he stared out at the horizon. There were things she should say, amends to be made, and forgiveness to be begged for. There were questions that needed answering and wounds that needed healing… but everything felt off.

This wasn't them. They were fire. Flames that couldn't be controlled, and begged to be unleashed. They were often volatile and unpredictable but warm and comforting all the same. If things could just be simple she'd reach across the leagues of space between them and wrap her arms around him once more. Just to relish in the warmth of his body and the familiar scent that would always be _Draco._ Hermione wanted to just appreciate that he lived and he breathed and he was fucking _here._ But life wasn't simple like that.

"I don't know how to be around you two," he confessed, his words barely over a whisper. His silver gaze was soft as he lifted his eyes to meet hers before swiftly looking back at the lawn. "I can't even look at you."

His words were a punch to her gut and she let out an audible huff after he'd spoken them. Familiar tears welled along her eyelashes and she caught her lip between her teeth. "I'm sorry," was all she could manage.

As he tightened his grip on the railing, she watched as his pale knuckles turned a stark white and he sucked in a harsh breath through his nose. "I'm asking to be on the other team but I'll undoubtedly see you lot around. I can't go back now that I'm here, although I almost did. I still need to see this through until the end, even if—" His breath hitched and he swallowed tightly. "Even if you want to be with Theo."

Tears leaked over her cheeks and she wiped them away frantically, a confession bubbling past her lips without thought. " _I don't know what I want._ "

Draco's head snapped towards her and something ignited behind his gaze. Something that looked like hope and it shattered her further. She didn't want to offer something she couldn't make good on.

The door creaked open behind them and Hermione's trance broke, blinking several times as she swiped at her cheeks. "Malfoy?" O'Connor's voice called from the doorjamb, hesitating when he saw her. Merlin, did the entire war know about her fucked-up love life? "We're waiting on you."

Draco didn't speak again, just let his gaze linger on her a moment before disappearing inside.

XXXXX

Hermione went to Grimmauld; she found Harry dozing on a dusty sofa in the study and grabbed an equally dusty book from the shelf and settled in on the opposite side. Peeking an open, Harry studied her from the far end of the sofa, but seeming to recognize her need to run away, he closed it again and was asleep within minutes.

Before long, Ron entered, a bowl of crisps in his hand and a sad smile for her. He took the spot near the window in the tattered armchair and the three of them sat in a quiet, comfortable silence. It felt so bloody good to be alone without being alone and when Harry's familiar deafening snore filled the room, Hermione and Ron shared a conspiratorial look before buckling over in a loud guffaw. Their riotous laughter startled Harry awake and he clambered for his glasses, drawing his wand in a clumsy fumble.

Soon, the three of them were laughing together, and as the sound died down and she clutched her stomach, she realized just how lucky she was, even if it rarely felt like it.

XXXXX

Canterbury house was stuffed full of senior fighters, Phoenixes and Thunderbirds alike. The large white wall had been cleared of its knick-knacks and Moody, Remus, Tonks, and O'Connor stood near it, clustered and deep in their own conversations.

Hermione found a spot with the rest of her team, careful to keep her distance from Theo, and unsure what that said about her and their relationship. But there were still things to be talked through and decisions to be made… or not.

"Granger!" Moody barked from the front of the room and she nearly jumped from her skin as she yelped back at him. "What do you remember of Cornwall?"

Remus flourished his wand through the air and on the large wall her map appeared. A pang twisted in her stomach and she felt a hot blush bloom over her cheeks. She'd made these looking for Malfoy and now he was just across the room, leaning against the wall in all his smug indifference.

"I remember it well enough," she said loudly, clearing her throat at the end.

"Good. Cause that's where we're going. We want you all to be prepared; this will be our largest offensive mission yet. We're getting closer to ending this blasted war and it's time we come out of hiding and began hitting them where it hurts."

"Our numbers aren't even close to theirs!" Seamus argued from his seat near the back and Moody's human eye narrowed in his direction.

"He's right," Ginny said with a tilted chin. "How can we possibly attack a fortress of that size?"

Hermione studied the detailed drawing on the wall; Cornwall wasn't the largest of the fortresses she'd surveyed, but it wasn't a shack in the woods either. Just below was her neat script:

_Estimated 50-75 D.E. on campus_

_North Entrance: Guard rotation every 4 hrs._

_Southwest Entrance: No guard visible, kitchen entry?_

_Notes: Wards are loose; Anti-apparition is up but others inconclusive. Thick forest coverage to the north and west, open fields to the south._

_No prisoners kept on site._

"Hermione, when did you visit Cornwall?" O'Connor asked. The entire room turned towards her and a thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead as her eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

Her face screwed up to one side as she tried to avoid the heat of three dozen stares. "It was early on. Maybe mid-January?" Against her volition, her gaze flitted over to Malfoy who was staring at her far more intently than the rest of the room.

"What can you say of the wards?" O'Connor called out again.

"Not much… Similar to Hogwarts I think. I could see the grounds clearly and I think because I wasn't there as an attack I was able to cross them. No Apparition, of course, but there were no alarms triggered. Nothing like what we have in place."

Moody stepped up, addressing the room instead of solely her. "This location houses a hell of a lot of those scumbags. We're going to fucking level it." His mouth curled into a foreign smile, and around the room soft whispers sounded.

"Phoenix," Tonks called out. "In the wake of Trueman's passing, I'll be your new team lead. We'll be stationed in the northern woods."

"Thunderbird—" Remus turned to his team. "Western woods. Both teams will stay in position as the senior teams move in under O'Connor's orders."

O'Connor moved up to the map, addressing his team gathered in the middle of the room. "You lot will stay in your smaller teams, and sneak up towards the base of the fortress. A-Teams you'll be working on the outside, laying explosives every four to six feet. B and C Teams… you'll go in on brooms. B-Team second floor, C-Team, you'll take the third. After the ground floor explosives are in place, you'll smash every goddamn window you can reach. From the time you see a red spark in the air, you'll have fifteen seconds— _fifteen_. Get your arses back on the ground. Aurors, you'll line up in the south field."

"Teams in the woods, you'll handle the overflow. Stay close to the wards in case we need to retreat." Tonks' hard gaze roamed the group of them as she spoke, and Hermione felt a flame ignite inside her. This is what she needed; a purpose and a push, and she sat up straight as she peered around Luna's blonde hair. "As they flee the property, take them down. This is important: no prisoners of war unless they are surrendering or inner circle to You-Know-Who. If you are unable to fire to kill, you stay back. Understood?"

That once soft spot inside Hermione hardened and her resolve strengthened.

Moody's mechanical eye whizzed around the room. " _Constant Vigilance_." He turned on his heel, coat sweeping behind him as he and the other team leads slipped from the room. The senior team followed shortly after, peering at them with judgmental glares, and leaving just the two younger teams in the kitchen.

"Training tomorrow morning? Sounds like target practice and dummy work," Theo said with a quirked eyebrow, his lips folded in as he ignored Malfoy staring daggers in his direction.

Everyone murmured their assent and they all shifted into their routine nightly activities. Hermione began to slide from her seat and Theo's cough interrupted her. "Do you want to talk?"

"Maybe not tonight?" she asked from the corner of her mouth, her eyes trained on the table between them. "Let's get through tomorrow, okay?" Burying her face in her palms for a moment, she let out a sigh and then lifted her gaze to his. "I'm just kind of… _exhausted_. Is that okay?"

It was clearly not okay. Hurt flashed across his features but he hid it with a crooked smile and a nod. "I'll see you in the morning."

"In the morning." Her lips bent upwards in a half smile as she vacated her seat and crossed the kitchen, resisting the urge to lift her gaze to the blond still standing stoically near the wall.

XXXXX

The following morning, Hermione woke after another night with Dreamless Sleep. Her pillow was wet with drool and her curls were wild in a way they hadn't been since childhood. Ginny was already shuffling through her drawers and Hermione shot up in bed, rubbing her eyes as they adjusted to the early morning light.

Shrugging on a jumper, Ginny grinned at her. "Training in fifteen! Get that cute little arse up and around!"

Hermione was left alone, a yawn ripping its way from her mouth. She dipped her toes onto the cold wood floor and slid her first drawer open. Pulling out her training clothes, she noticed the small gaping space in the upper corner: the place she'd kept Draco's belongings when she was still holding out hope.

After getting ready for the morning ahead, she knelt down next to her bed, reaching under until her fingertips brushed against the box she'd stowed there. Clutching it to her chest, she made her way down the hall in the opposite direction of the stairs.

She shouldn't be seeking him out. This was a risky game that she felt powerless to walk away from, and even as her knuckles rapped against the door at the end of the hall, part of her implored her just to walk away.

Draco wrenched the door open, dressed in nothing other than sleep trousers that were slung dangerously low on his hips. Her body froze; the only part of her moving was her gaze as it dragged slowly over his abdomen, covered in scars she hadn't yet memorized and familiar taut lines of muscle.

"Granger," he drawled, bringing one arm up and resting his forearm on the doorjamb. "Come here to gawk, or do you need something?"

She blinked, begrudgingly bringing her gaze up to his face which was twisted into a smug smirk. "I… I…"

"Yes?" he yawned, bringing the hand of his raised arm up to rest on his neck.

"Sorry," she said, shaking herself from her trance. "This is your stuff. They sent it to me but it has your glasses and some clothes. I thought you might want it back."

"Brilliant. Good looking out, Granger." He easily lifted the box from her hands and dropped it with a careless _thud_ to the side.

The issue was that she knew him. She knew exactly what he was doing; he'd done it for since she'd known him. He was goading her and she refused to rise to the occasion. With an audible groan, she turned to retreat down the hall, but before she made it even a handful of steps he called out for her.

Huffing out a sigh, she turned back to him, her jaw clenched and ready for more of his inevitable snark. But his face was softer, his shoulders more relaxed and a genuine curiosity puckered his brow. "What's the deal with you and the maps? Seemed like they singled you out."

Her breath caught, jaw trembling as she tried to gather the courage just to say it. "I left." The words ghosted between them. "When you were taken… I left."

His gaze flickered and a surprised breath slipped past his lips. "What do you mean?"

"I—" She gulped. "I looked for you. Which was impossible but I kept busy. Scouting known locations on the map and hoping I'd see you… or hear from you or about you. When I returned, those maps bought me my space on Thunderbird."

Folding her lips into a tight line she made to turn back but he called out yet again. "How long?"

"Sorry?"

"How long did you look?"

Her throat tightened, tongue flickering out to wet her lips before she turned back to him. "Three months."

**XXXXX**

**A/N: Y'all are slaying with me your reviews! I still can't believe you take time to read my words and then to spoil me with comments just makes me grin. Thank you!**

**Some of you are quite concerned with how quickly Hermione moved on and I can completely understand that frustration. I'm not sure anyone cares for my reasonings, so feel free to skip on past this next bit if so!**

**First, and most importantly, there was a typo in the last chapter. I was so confused why everyone kept saying four months. According to all my notes it's been five and a half, closer to six months. I've made corrections but I apologize for any confusion, though I'm not sure the extra month makes anyone feel any better.**

**Draco and Hermione came together in this huge clash of wills and personalities and I wanted their love affair to be hot and passionate, volatile and fiery. There are several instances in the early chapters where Hermione actually brings up that she isn't sure why she never noticed Theo in school, but how she finds him attractive and there is often a chemistry between them. This chemistry might be less exciting than what she had with Draco, but instead of the flames, he is the embers.**

**Draco and Hermione were together about two months before he went missing. Hermione then spent three months in complete isolation and obliviating her parents; she changed a lot during this time. Draco's disappearance was always meant to serve as the catalyst for her change and even after she returns to the safe houses, she continues to evolve and learn how to take ordres and think of her team. When he returns, he is also grappling with coming home to someone who isn't the same.** _ **And**_ **she's sleeping with his best mate.**

**I am not someone who likes to create perfect characters and even if they exist in canon I try to throw in a few jagged edges. Hermione has felt isolated in almost every aspect since the war began, so in my mind it makes sense that she would look for someone who also felt the same way in her despair. It might not be the right choice, but loneliness is a powerful foe.**

**Anywho, more is to be revealed on all fronts! Only a few chapters left, if you can believe it.**

**I know a lot of people are worried that this story will follow the direct plot of Pearl Harbor and without giving away major details of the ending, I will say that Hermione sits nothing out due to a pregnancy. Homegirl has come a long, long way and I would never have her sit back while the boys went off to war. She will be fighting alongside her team til the end!**

**Okay, worlds longest AN done!**

**Alpha love: MCal**

**Beta babe: InDreams**

**Thank you again for indulging me. Until next time! LK**


	30. Thirty

****Recommended Song: Take It All by Adele****

**This chapter contains direct and altered quotes from the film Pearl Harbor.**

 

The air felt wet and heavy, licking uncomfortably against her skin as stray curls clung to her neck and the air pulsed with tension around her. Overhead, two low hoots echoed against the trees, and Hermione lifted her gaze, searching the darkness for the familiar set of wings. 

 

“You okay?” Theo’s voice shook her from her reverie and she blinked up at him a few times, the corner of her lip twitching as she stared back at him. “This is a big one… you gonna be alright?”

 

“Yeah,” she breathed, giving a tight nod and reaching for his hand out of habit. Their fingers intertwined with a delightful familiarity and he brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles one by one. 

 

Brilliant red sparks filled the sky and Hermione sucked in a shaky breath as a succession of a dozen explosions sounded in the distance. Against the harshness of the night sky, she could see the fiery bursts as chunks of the wall gave way and crumbled to the earth. 

 

She gave Theo a final meaningful look and felt her a painful pang in her heart that she couldn’t know that Draco was also alright. Her fingers slipped from Theo’s and she felt him squeeze them once more before her hand fell lamely to her side. Merlin, what a selfish witch she was turning out to be. 

 

“Masks up,” Remus called back over his shoulder, fixing his own upon his face and pulling his wand from its holster. Three short bursts of crimson magic shot from the tip of his wand and rained down over the trees; Hermione fumbled for her ivory mask, bringing it swiftly to her face with a sticking charm and a prayer to whoever the fuck was listening right now. “On my lead.” 

 

She was so used to running, whether it was towards something or away, but tonight, they moved slowly, with purpose. Stalking forward with all the grace of a jungle cat, she felt truly a part of Thunderbird; a single, lethal unit. 

 

They approached the clearing, and Hermione thought that if anyone could hear anything at all over the boom of the explosions and the screams for help, it would be the sound of her pounding heart. From across the way, she saw the Phoenix group, led by Tonks; she sent a golden flare up, halting their movements. 

 

The wait was torture. Absolute bloody fucking torture. Her heart stuttered and faltered in her chest, sending bile climbing up her throat. Suddenly, the ambient noise of the evening died down and Remus lifted two fingers in the air, motioning to his right and then to his left. Without question, the members of Thunderbird obeyed, spreading out in a single line around the clearing, chins tilted and wands drawn. 

 

Time was measured in heartbeats now and however many it was that passed, it wasn’t enough. She scanned the darkness, desperate for  _ something…  _ or maybe nothing. Maybe that would be better and they could leave; put a tally in Moody’s win column and be done with it. 

 

“ _ Hoot.”  _

 

Hermione's eyes shot to the rubble, squinting behind the layer of her mask with a scrutinous glare. She swore she saw…

 

A glowing jet of lime green magic shot from nowhere, and with a collective feral shout several members of her team brought up shields. Hermione’s  _ Protego _ reached past Theo and he stepped closer to her as he fired a harmless, illuminating cloud of magic towards the epicenter. 

 

Like rats scurrying from their confines, Death Eaters began their flee, firing curses in a relentless onslaught. There were too many of them; too many had survived the bombing.

 

One brutish man began charging the line of Phoenixes to Hermione’s right and her breath caught, her shield wavering for the briefest of moments. 

 

Theo gave her a hard check with his shoulder, knocking her back as he deflected a curse and cut down the man a dozen or so feet in front of him with a low growl. “ _ Eyes up, Granger!” _

 

_ “Shite _ ,” she mumbled and scrambled to her feet. Just a handful of yards away, Hermione caught sight of two men clawing at the earth in a desperate attempt to flee. She turned towards Theo and behind his mask, he nodded. Bringing her wand in a wild semi-circle she shouted, “ _ IGNIS!” _ The larger of the two fell to the ground, writhing and clawing at his black robes, screaming for help. 

 

Her eyes fluttered closed and she focused her energy in her belly, the dark, inky coiling magic that reeked of hatred and resentment. With a grand flourish, her  _ Avada _ poured from the end of her wand, silencing the man on the ground forever. 

 

The smaller man turned, sights trained on the closest person he could find. Slicing his wand through the air, Hermione watched in horror as Ginny was frozen momentarily before being lifted onto her toes, her arms stretched wide as a pained scream filled the air around them. 

 

“ _ Ginny!” _ Hermione's scream alerted her teammates and their attention was drawn to the end of the line where Ginny was screaming in torture.

 

“Thunderbird! Steady!” Remus stepped forward and in a synchronized dance, they fell back, pulling into a tight triangle. Hermione was shielded in the center, Theo just behind her. She reached back for him, curling her hand around his forearm and squeezing once, a quiet reassurance that he was still there. 

 

Luna and Hermione shared a look and cast a dome over their team, steadying and focusing their magic as Death Eaters pelted death against their defense. 

 

“Drop shields in three…two…” Remus called and she could feel the collective breath of her team as they readied their wands. “ _ One _ .” 

 

Shields fell, and Luna and Hermione crashed to their knees; an array of lethal curses shot over their heads, piercing through their opponents until they were laying in a heap just feet from Ginny. 

 

“Granger! Nott! Portkey Ginny out and then we all spread out! Stay in your pairs and get every last bloody one of them.” The formation broke and Hermione rushed from the huddled bodies to Ginny’s side. Thankfully, her breaths were steady but her eyes were wild and unseeing as she clawed up at the darkness. 

 

“We’re getting you to Pomfrey, Gin. You’ll be safe.” Hermione pulled a Portkey out of her pocket and unwrapped it from within the small piece of cloth it was hidden inside. “See you soon.” 

 

For a prolonged moment, Hermione stared at the spot where her friend laid. 

 

“Granger! There!” Theo took off in a sprint, and it took a moment for Hermione to make sense of what he was running towards. A few Phoenixes were outnumbered, fighting with their backs against the treeline, and before Theo had stopped running he was slicing them down. 

 

She jumped up, running as fast as her feet would carry her towards the fray. A handful of Death Eaters noticed the attacks at their back and began to turn; Theo was unprotected. He was just  _ there _ , so close she could nearly reach him, but her shield wasn’t strong enough on the run and she poured her energy into her feet, begging to be carried further, further,  _ further. _

 

She fell to her knees next to him, sinking into the wet mud with clenched eyelids, and waiting for a curse to slam into her as she brought up a hasty shield, her free hand thrown over her face. 

 

The telltale echo of a curse rebounding sounded in her ears and she peeked one eye open from behind her mask to see a pulsing, shimmering shield around them. A third fighter, just to Theo’s left. 

 

She would know his body anywhere, would know the way he cast and his stance. 

Pushing to her feet, Hermione looked over at the two of them, and with a stiff nod from Draco, his shield dropped. They worked in perfect unison, one shielding while the others attacked with quick, easy precision. Even their feet moved in tandem as Theo stepped onto the far side of her, land locking her between them as they worked together until each Death Eater had fallen. 

 

Theo led first, pulling his mask from his face and staring at his friend over Hermione’s head, and Draco followed suit.

 

“Shut up about it. I still hate your fucking guts, yeah? I just don’t want you dead. There’s a difference.” His words were nasty but his tone wasn’t, and it filled Hermione with the strangest sense of hope. She had properly fucked up her relationship with these two, but maybe there was still hope for them after all. Maybe they could reclaim their lifelong friendship… maybe she just needed to step aside. 

 

With a shaky breath, she let her eyes fall to her mud-caked boots. An explosion sounded near the cliff and their faces whipped towards it, steadying themselves as the boys returned their masks and the three of them tore off across the lawn. 

 

XXXXX

 

Ginny was fine, thank Merlin. She needed to stay overnight at Bristol and the teams joined there in the foyer awaiting word. It was Remus and Tonks who delivered the good news, standing on the staircase with a serious set to their brows. But Tonks cracked first, and then Remus, and they were staring down at the rest of them with inappropriate grins. 

 

“You lot did well tonight. You’re off for a few days too,” Remus said, wrapping an arm around his wife and pulling her into his side. 

 

“G’on. Back to Canterbury; there’s a surprise waiting in your kitchen. Courtesy of Mad-Eye Moody himself.” 

 

They all shared a nervous look and a collective shrug as they left Bristol and made for the wards, Apparating in quiet  _ pops _ . 

 

Hermione lingered towards the back of the crowd. Watching in relief as her friends threw happy arms around each other and regaled each other in the glorious moments of their battles. The first of her friends entered the kitchen, and through the large windows, she could see them jumping in glee over the Firewhisky and beer set out on the table. 

 

A celebration of death.

 

Hermione’s brow pinched and she stayed back, finding a spot on the bannister and leaning there as she watched her friends. A smile cracked her serious facade and without realizing it, she pulled the pendant from where it was tucked under her shirt and ran her fingers over it a few times. 

 

“D’you ever figure it out?” Draco’s voice slipped through the darkness near the stairs and she jumped from her spot, cursing under her breath and dropping her necklace against her chest once more. 

 

“Merlin,  _ fuck _ , Malfoy! Why do you always have to lurk like that?” Her heart settled into its normalpace; she rested her hands against the railing and fixed her gaze on her friends in the kitchen. 

 

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest as he climbed the handful of stairs to where he’d once swept her into his arms. She remembered that kiss like it had just happened that morning, remembered the way his hands curled around her and his lips stole the breath from her lungs as he poured everything he had back into her. 

 

“You’re just never paying attention. I said, did you figure it out?”

 

She dared a quick glance in his direction, finding that his pale, moonlit beauty was exemplified by the darkness. She swallowed the heated emotion threatening to take over the quiet moment. “Figure what out?”

 

Chuckling with an all too familiar smirk, he crossed the deck until he was dangerously in her space. Heat billowed from his chest and the smell of his cologne lingered on his clothes. She shouldn’t want to reach out and just lay her palms on her chest, shouldn’t want to wrap her arms around him and just breathe him in a while—but she did. She was desperate to remember that he lived, that he was real and here and no figment of her imagination. 

 

His hand lifted towards her and her breath caught painfully in her throat as her eyes lifted to his, molten silver boring into her as he picked up the pendant and laid it in his palm. “This.” 

 

Hermione shook her head, gulping as his fingers closed around it and he gave a hard tug, breaking it free from around her neck. 

 

“ _ Hey _ !” Her hand came up to rest where it had just been laying, where it had laid faithfully since December. 

 

Draco stared down at it in his palm, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a wry barely there smile. Lifting the pendant between his thumb and forefinger, he pulled out his wand, lifted its tip to the small coin’s surface, and murmured a quiet  _ Lumos. _

 

On the side of the house, the light of his wand poured through the tiny dots peppered in a strange but intricate pattern. Hermione stepped away from him, studying the display, her features pinched as her eyes darted across it. 

 

“What is it?” she breathed, her hand lifting to trace the small dots of light. 

 

“ _ Constellio.”   _

 

In front of her, each dot was connected with a glowing line of magic, twisting and wrapping, forming two very distinct animals with the glowing dots embedded within their shape. When Hermione realized what she was looking at, her hand moved up to clamp over her mouth; she’d worn it all these months and never known. 

 

“Leo and Serpens.  _ You and me _ .” His voice was husky, laced with sadness that ran too deep. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the glowing images in front of her, and when the lights snuffed out, she blinked at the dark wall for a moment before turning towards him with a trembling jaw. “Well, you and Theo, it seems.” 

 

His gaze fell away from her and he held out the necklace but she couldn’t move.  _ Couldn’t breathe. _

 

“Malfoy…” The name slipped out, a ghost of her voice and she folded her lips inward when he scoffed and thrust the necklace into her hands. 

 

“Malfoy again, is it? You know, I wonder now if I ever knew you at all. Have fun celebrating, Granger.” He turned back towards the darkness, taking a piece of her heart with him, and disappearing beyond the wards with a pop. 

 

Staring down at the innocuous little trinket in her palm, she felt a dam give way. Dangerous emotions swelled and twisted inside her, anger and pain and unbearable sadness, and with a resigned huff and a proud tilt to her chin she stormed towards the wards, tying her necklace back around her neck, completely unaware of the set of blue eyes watching her from beyond the window. 

 

XXXXX

 

Hermione landed at Surrey house and had barely materialized when she was stomping towards the rickety little shack and marching up its stairs. 

 

Her eyes roamed the dark space, finding Draco laid out on the lumpy sofa with his heels kicked up on the armrest, arms folded behind his head in a vain attempt at indifference. “Take a hint, Granger.  _ Piss off _ .” 

 

“No.” 

 

“ _ No _ ?” He snorted and sat up lazily, crossing his ankle over his knee and throwing an arm across the back of the sofa. “What’d you come here for? Better not be sex, because unlike that traitor boyfriend of yours, I have some semblance of loyalty. You two wouldn’t know about that.” 

 

“You are such an incorrigible arsehole, d’you know that?” This always somehow happened with him; whatever emotion she’d been previously experiencing morphed into boiling rage and they always ended up here…  _ fighting. _

 

“Yeah, and you’re… well—” He rolled his eyes, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I was raised a gentleman and my mother would have my tongue if she heard me say such things, especially about the girl I promised I was coming back for.” His lips pulled back as if the words were acid and he rose aristocratically to his feet. 

 

“Why are you being like this? You’re acting like… like—”

 

A sneer formed on his handsome face and it hit her square in the belly. “Like  _ what _ , Hermione?”

 

She blinked away the tears welling in her eyes, staring at the floor between them. There were no words to make this better, nothing that could take away the hurt of what she’d done and what he’d been through. All she wanted was to kiss it away, to remember the way his lips moved against hers and the way he tasted… 

 

“ _ Like I didn’t love you _ ,” she breathed. “I did. You  _ know _ I did. I loved you more than—” Her voice betrayed her, cracking and drying up as she struggled to hold it all together. 

 

“You have a funny way of showing it. Tell me, how long did it take him to slither his way into your bed?  _ The-fucking-sod,  _ how long did it take for him to take my place _?” _

 

“It wasn’t like that! Okay? This isn’t black and white. My feelings don’t stop here and begin there. It’s endless and suffocating.” Her chin tucked into her chest as she sucked in a short breath, begging for relief from the pain washing over her. “I love you both, and I know that’s fucking selfish and awful of me… but  _ it’s me _ .  _ You’re _ apart of me. You’re here.” Hermione pressed her palm to her chest as tears slipped freely down her cheeks. “You’ve always been here; even when you were gone. I’ve loved you every day and I’m sorry you can’t feel how much I did, because I’ve felt it. I’ve felt it until I was sick and weary and wandering the fucking Welsh countryside surviving on beef jerky and hope that you were still out there!” 

 

“And what do you think I was doing, Hermione?” Draco shouted, his voice cracking as tears welled in the corners of his eyes. “I was fighting. I never stopped fighting to get back to you.” 

 

“ _ I know _ !” she shouted back, misplaced anger coloring her words. Something already broken cracked inside her, shattering her further, and her shoulders slumped from the weight of it all. “I know.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “But I was fighting too. I didn’t mean for Theo to happen.” 

 

“Yeah,” Draco snorted. “Well, he did.”

 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “He did. And I’m fucking sorry,  _ okay _ ? Is that what you need to hear?” 

 

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning away from her with a lip-curling sneer. Darting for him, her hand curled around his elbow and ripped him back to face her. “Stop it! Stop running from me!” 

 

Tears streamed over her cheeks as ugly sobs ripped up her throat and her voice turned to a sad whine. “I was falling apart… and he knew what I was going through. We turned to each other after we’d heard you _ died _ in the Malfoy cellar. I would never— _ could _ never—if I thought you were out there. I would have looked for the rest of my life.” 

 

The final words of her confession rang through the cabin, and for the first time, she saw the wavering of his angry facade, his watery gaze roaming her face as his jaw trembled. 

 

“You know, when I was down in that dungeon rotting… I made a deal with God… or the universe, or whoever was listening. I promised that no matter what life sent my way, I’d never ask for anything again… if I could just see your face one more time.” He lifted a single finger and Hermione felt his words lance through her heart; a soft cry shook her as he wiped his own tears with the back of his hand. 

 

“You know what?” he continued. “ _ It was worth it _ . You kept me alive, Hermione. You brought me home.” His jaw quivered and he straightened his spine, swallowing thickly. “So, I’m gonna keep my end of the deal. I won’t ask for anything… but I just want to know  _ why?  _ Why?” 

 

Draco’s voice cracked and she shattered, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his chest as his tears fell into her curls. After the longest moment of her life, his arms wrapped around her waist and he crushed her harder into him, one hand sliding up her spine and curling around the base of her neck. 

 

The racing of his heart was tangible against her chest and she pulled him closer, lifting her face to meet his, memorizing him up close again in a way she never thought she’d have the chance. 

 

Their gazes went hazy, their mouths pulled by some unknowable force until they were hovering just a breath away from touching. Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed as her hands slid up the taut lines of his body and found the planes of his chest, gripping the thin fabric of his shirt, tugging him fractionally closer. 

 

She could nearly taste him. 

 

“ _ Go _ .” His breath fanned over her and she blinked back to reality, staring up at him through tear-laden eyelashes. Shame and rejection crashed over her and she jumped back, staring at him with an angry edge, knowing it was misplaced; knowing it was meant for her. 

 

She couldn’t bear to look at him again; she turned and ran past the wards, Apparating back to Canterbury with a fresh round of sobs echoing behind her. 

 

Crossing the lawn with her arms wrapped tightly across her torso, she wiped the lingering tears from her cheeks. The bonfire rose in its full glory, her friends drunkenly shouting and celebrating from the logs surrounding it, but she walked past it, unable to even look for Theo. 

 

Hermione needed to collapse in on herself, needed to lose herself behind a silencing charm. Reaching for the back door, she jumped when something shifted in the shadows from the far side of the deck. 

 

“How is he?”  _ Theo. _

 

“Theo…” Her voice was a low whine as she buried her face in her hands. How much battering could a single heart take in a week? “I can’t—”

 

“I know. You can’t talk, right?” He emerged from the shadows, one hand cradling a beer and the other shoved in his trouser pocket. “You never can, but you can talk to him.” 

 

“I  _ needed _ to talk to him, Theo. I haven’t since—”

 

“You haven’t talked to me!” With too much force, he placed his beer bottle on the railing and reached for her, gripping her by the elbows and dragging her into his embrace. Knowing she’d just been in Draco’s made that knot of shame wind tighter and she let go of another low sob. 

 

“I just can’t, okay? You’re going to ask me to choose and  _ I can’t. _ We’re in a war and you want answers that I can’t give. Answers I don’t have. I don’t want to live without either of you, so you tell me what I’m supposed to do here, Theo.”

 

“I love you and I know that you love me.” Cradling her cheeks, he tilted her face up to his; she tried to tear away from his grasp but he held strong. “I just worry you love him more—”

 

A splintered piece of her heart ripped painfully away from the rest, and she shook her head free of the plaguing thoughts threatening to drag her under. 

 

Theo tugged her into a fierce hug, his arms holding her broken pieces together, just like they always did. 

 

XXXXX

 

**A/N: Thank you again so much for reading and I hope you are enjoying this angsty torment. I do it out of love, I swear it!**

 

**Alpha and Beta love to Mcal and InDreams.**

 

**Until next time! LK**

  
  



	31. Thirty One

Blinking awake, the emotional upheaval of the night before came crashing down on Hermione. It seemed ridiculous, that in this world, the hardest battle was within her heart. 

 

There were bigger things to be considered. More important things. With that belief firmly in place, she rose from bed and readied herself for the day, pulling on her denims, hiking boots, and a loose white shirt. As she moved through the motions, she felt a stirring around her. She couldn’t place the feeling, but it felt unfamiliar and almost…  _ foreboding _ . 

 

Down in the kitchen, things were normal; except for Luna. She was always somehow in the epicenter of the frenzy, finding order in the chaos and guiding it when appropriate, but not this morning. Standing out back, she surveyed the grounds, a tightness in her slender shoulders that gave Hermione pause. 

 

“Neville?” He hummed in response. “Is Luna alright?”

 

Neville’s features pulled up to one side and he clucked his tongue. “She was fitful last night; no idea why. She woke up and said, ‘ _ Something’s coming _ ’ and has been like this since. I never know what to do when she gets like—”

 

Without another word, Hermione moved through the cluster of people and out onto the back deck. 

 

“Luna?”

 

There were a few beats of silence, Luna’s eyes unseeing even as she studied the horizon. Then, when Hermione cleared her throat, Luna blinked back into reality and offered her friend a weak smile. 

 

“Are you doing okay? Neville said you had a nightmare—”

 

With a quiet, delicate snort, Luna tossed her wavy hair over one shoulder and shook her head. “I  _ wish _ it were a nightmare. It was too real to be, though. Do you ever wake from a dream and feel like you are pulling at the threads of something larger? I know I saw more, but now…”

 

Hermione’s brow puckered and her hand came up to rest on her friend's shoulder. “What on earth could you have seen that’s gotten you so upset, Luna?”

 

“That’s just it—” Luna chuckled. “I can’t make sense of it. I have jagged pieces. Fighting at the refugee house, blood on my shoes, a thunderstorm. Theo choking… Neville…  _ Neville—”  _

 

There was a tremble to her friend's tiny body that made Hermione’s heart quicken. She hushed her as tears fell down her cheeks. “Luna, everything’s alright. The refugee house has been better tended to than any of the safe houses, and you  _ know _ how well we looked after those. It was just an awful dream… that’s all.”

 

Luna’s shaking fingers lifted to hover by her mouth as fresh tears tracked down her pale cheeks. “Do you remember standing here with me last fall? When I told you that in autumn, Persephone returned to the underworld to be with Hades?”

 

Vaguely, she recalled the conversation and nodded, still staring intently at her friend. 

 

“Well, it’s spring now. Persephone has returned to the land of the living—but I fear Hades is not so pleased. I can feel  _ something, _ Hermione. I feel it, but I can’t stop it.” 

 

“Why don’t we go up to the refugee house, huh? That’ll put your mind at ease and we can safeguard the wards one more time?” Hermione’s voice lilted in false hope and Luna gave her a half-hearted smile and nodded. 

 

But for as absolutely looney as Luna sounded, Hermione had come to trust her friend more than most. And, damnit all, but she felt that something too.

 

XXXXX

 

Upon arrival at the refugee house, all seemed right. They walked through the wards and each girl did a general assessment, flicking their wands from the inside to test the large dome covering the house and a small circle of the grounds around it.

 

“See, Luna? All is well.” 

 

Luna hummed, nodding absently as they crossed the lawn, their boots squelching in the wet grass. The sky above was clear and the loveliest shade of blue, not a cloud in the sky, and Hermione gave a knowing smile as she stared at the sky—no thunderstorms in sight. 

 

However, as soon as the girls stepped over the threshold of the door, the chaos inside halted their steps. The entire foyer was in a frenzy, children sprinting back and forth, and women screaming at them to behave. 

 

“Oh, Merlin and Morgana, thank the heavens!” From across the room, Molly’s arm raised wildly and she pointed at the two of them with a pointed glare, gesturing for them to join her. “It’s about time! Where have you been?” 

 

Hermione and Luna shared a nervous glance and then looked back at Molly. “Sorry?” Luna chimed. 

 

“I told Mad-Eye to send some help today; as you can see, we need it! I expected more than you—no offense.” Molly’s nose crinkled as if she’d smelled something foul. 

 

Hermione loosed an indignant huff and raised her brows. “What do you need Molly?”

 

“The house is in disarray! The children’s quarters need a good cleaning; more than a stout  _ Scourgify _ , mind you. They’ve been sharing sickness like it’s going out of style. There’s a list of children who are allowed potions, and they need to be administered; Muggle medicine needs to be given to those whose guardians have not authorized magical healing. Food needs to be tended to in mass proportions, the pantry needs to be organized… don’t even get me started on the state of the laundry and the grounds.” Molly paused to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I swear, those men love to sit and clap each other on the back over war stories, and are all too quick to forget the real people up here who need our help!” 

 

Hermione’s hard exterior softened; she’d seen Molly like this before and there was no question that it had to do with Ginny being cursed. She was a mother with children at war and she tended to fray at the edges in moments of duress. 

 

“We’ll get the teams here; I’m sorry, Molly. They told us to take a few days off; information must have gotten lost somewhere.”

 

Molly threw her hands up before jabbing them into her hips and walking back into the kitchen, grumbling. From over her shoulder, a familiar voice called to her. 

 

“ _ Hermione _ !” 

 

Turning, her eyes caught on Layla, cheeks pink and eyes bright as she waved at Hermione over a mess of children shouting over a teddy bear. 

 

“I’ll head back to Canterbury and gather the troops—hopefully everyone’s not hungover,” Luna offered, turning towards the door. 

 

“Thanks! I’ll see you back here soon.” There was a flash of uncertainty behind Luna’s normally clear eyes and Hermione reached for her friend's hand. “It’s okay, Luna. I think that feeling in the air is just because things are happening now… it’ll be over soon.” 

 

With a stiff nod, Luna receded towards the door and disappeared without another word. 

 

“Hey,” Layla said breathlessly. “What brings you here? And where is that pretty boy you always keep around?”

 

Laughing, Hermione rolled her eyes and wrapped Layla in a quick hug. “That is a whole other mess I assure you. We came to check the wards, and true to form you are all safe and sound. Molly wants us to get this place in order; it seems in all our meticulous war planning we’ve let you lot slip into mayhem.” 

 

“Ah, well dozens of women and children living in an English mansion… what could go wrong? I’m heading for the laundry; care to join and bring that wand of yours with you?”

 

Hermione’s lips curled in a genuine smile and she took her wand from its holster and twirled it with a wrinkle to her nose. “That I think I can do.” 

 

XXXXX

 

“So, I think we’ll be leaving soon. The kids seem to be doing well and I’m ready to get back to some sense of normalcy. They found my dad—”

 

“ _ What? _ ” Hermione’s face whipped towards her friend and her jaw dropped open with an audible  _ pop. _ “I thought he was—”

 

“Yeah,” Layla chuckled. “So did I. He’d been right where we left him. I guess the… what do you guys call them?”

 

Hermione pulled a face. “Death Eaters.” 

 

A bright peal of laughter filled the room as they folded dingy white towels by the heap. “You witch-folk are creative, I give you that. I can honestly say I would never have thought of that name _. _ Anyways, they were keeping an eye on him, blackmailing him to print what they wanted in the papers. I think I told you he was a journalist? He knew we were alive and they were using that against him… awful people, those Death Eaters.” 

 

A hollow noise escaped Hermione and the corners of her lips turned downward. “That’s just the beginning, I’m afraid. So your dad is safe, then?” 

 

“He is, and under the careful watch of your Order now. I guess there’s a place south of London that we’ll be letting and he’s getting it ready now. You should have seen that reunion—” Layla smiled, lost in her memory. “I wanted to thank you.”

 

Hermione waved a hand in her direction. “I did nothing; I’m so sorry you were dragged into this in the first place.” 

 

Reaching out, Layla wrapped her hand around Hermione’s and she squeezed gently, catching her gaze with a smile. “No, you did. You and Theo both—thank you.” 

 

Tears rimmed Hermione’s gaze and she nodded with a thick gulp. “You’re most welcome.” 

 

A soft knock at the door stole their attention and Hermione jumped, turning to find Theo looming in the door frame. “Hi, Layla. Have a minute, Hermione?” 

 

“Well, well, Theo. Come to steal my laundry companion?” 

 

Theo’s lips folded into an awkward, tight line and he withdrew his wand, waving it at the heap of laundry; one by one, articles lifted and folded themselves perfectly in neat stacks. “Do you one better. No laundry at all.” 

 

Layla rose and rolled her eyes as she made for the side door. “You miss the point entirely, but you’re pretty so I’ll let it slide. Come and see me before you leave, Hermione?”

 

Hermione smiled and wiggled her fingers at the girl before returning with a far more stoic look to Theo. 

 

She swallowed, feeling the steady thrum of anxiety rushing under her skin. The night before she’d departed from Theo’s embrace with barely a word and there was still nothing to say. Nothing that made sense, and if she was being honest, she didn’t need it to make sense right now. 

 

“What’s going on, Theo?” she breathed, her voice sad and resigned. 

 

Theo huffed and removed his hands from his trouser pockets as he crossed the room towards her. “Did I do something? I know it’s been a shite few days but you’re icing me out here and I’m not exactly sure why.”

 

“I’m not icing you out, Theo. I’m just— _ preoccupied.” _ Pinching the bridge of her nose, she rose swiftly and made for the door behind her onto the lawn. 

 

“I get it, alright? I’ve come in second to Malfoy in every given opportunity since we were kids, and I’m bloody used to it. But you could do me the favor of letting me know if you’ve picked him.”

 

“I haven’t  _ picked _ anyone, Theo,” she said with a glower, picking up a rake and aggressively tending to the earth below the shrubbery. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

 

“Well, are you bloody going to? It’s a little frustrating waiting to be let down.” There was a long moment of tense quiet that stretched on before Theo blurted out the question he was so clearly dying to ask. “Did something happen between you two last night?”

 

Hermione’s jaw fell open as fresh anger flared in her belly. “Are you fucking kidding me, Theo? There are bigger things to consider here than this. Ginny was very seriously injured yesterday, lest you forget.” 

 

“There will always be things bigger than this. Forgive me for falling for you in the middle of a fucking war and giving a shite about that. Not all of us so easily operate under Hermione Granger's stringent code of not giving a fuck about anyone other than herself.” He carded an angry hand through his hair and turned to storm off, before turning and rounding on her again, his cheeks pink and jaw set. “Do you love me?”

 

Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut and she let out a long breath. “Yes.” 

 

“Do you love him?” His voice was strained, tight, as he spoke and even though she expected it, she didn’t want to answer him. And when he was met with several beats of silence, he repeated the question. “Do you love him, Hermione?”

 

Her tear-rimmed gaze lifted to his and she swallowed the knot tangled in her throat. “It doesn’t matter.” 

 

“Yes, it does.  _ Do you love him?” _

 

Something snapped inside her. “Of course I do! I never stopped!” 

 

Her voice cracked as she watched the pain flicker over Theo’s handsome face and she knew then how dangerous this game of hearts had become. 

 

“ _ There. _ Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that make anything better? Knowing that while I was falling in love with you, I was still in love with him? I told you, this isn’t the time  _ or _ the place, Theo. Just—let’s discuss it later.” The heaviness of this conversation, of her reality, was too bloody much and she was exhausted from hauling it. 

 

Theo was relentless in his need for answers, however, and he kept  _ pushing. _ “It’s okay for you to pick him, Hermione. I’m a strong enough bloke to handle the blow; it won’t be the first time I’ve handled some bad shite, but at least have the bollocks to—”

 

“ _ He doesn’t want me _ !” Before she could think properly, the words were hanging between them, heavy and ugly and  _ true _ . A shadow fell over the grounds and she could feel the humidity of a coming storm pushing down on her. 

 

“What if he did?”

 

Tilting her face to the heavens, she studied the looming storm clouds rolling in and recognition flickered somewhere in the back of her brain. “Does it matter? He doesn’t. And I don’t want to choose you because I can’t have him. And I don’t want to choose him just because I loved him first. And all of this doesn’t fucking matter because there are children inside who need food.” 

 

She turned quickly, only to be halted by a familiar face looming in the doorway she’d vacated just minutes prior. Malfoy, lurking in all his self-righteous smugness, features bored and devoid of any interest in the conversation he’d been listening in on. 

 

“Oh, bloody brilliant! Of  _ course _ you’re here!” She made to take a few steps but Theo’s arm shot out and wrapped around her elbow, halting her movements even as she tried to wrench herself free. “Stop, Theo…” Her voice was a low whine as tears slid down her cheeks. 

 

Theo loomed over, his chest bumping into her as she tried in vain to gather her composure. “What if he did want you, Hermione?” 

 

His fingers tightened around the tops of her arms but far from  menacing, it was almost comforting. Urging her to just say it and be done with it, to cut him free… but she  _ couldn’t.  _

 

_ “ _ Yeah.” Malfoy’s dry voice cut through the air and her face whipped around to study him. “What if he still wanted you?” 

 

The fingers around her arms tightened again, just briefly, before releasing her. 

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Hermione said, her mouth dry. “This isn’t the time. There are kids—”

 

“Oh, bloody fuck, Granger. When’s it gonna be a good time?” Malfoy shot her a withering sneer. “We’ve got Voldemort breathing down our—”

 

“ _ NO _ !” Theo and Hermione shouted in unison, cutting him off far too late. 

 

“What the fuck is you guys’ problem? You two can talk about it, but I can’t? I’m just some silent observer in your sordid love affair?” 

 

Hermione turned back to Theo, both of their chests heaving as they waited… waited…  _ waited… _

 

_ Crack! Crack! Crack! _

 

Thunder rolled overhead and Hermione took a step forward, eyeing the ward boundary with a scrutinous glare. “ _ There _ ,” she breathed, lifting a trembling finger towards the far side of the lawn. 

 

She took off running as fast as her feet would carry her, too afraid to Apparate in case the intruders heard. Malfoy and Theo were hot on her heels, and distantly she could hear Malfoy hissing about what was the problem. 

 

“His name’s a taboo, you fuck. You just alerted his entire army where we are. You better fucking hope they get turned around,” Theo growled. 

 

Hermione stopped a few yards away, able to see and hear them but hopefully not close enough to arouse suspicion. Who had done the wards here? Hopefully, they’d laid down a proper  _ Confundus _ ward along with the normal—

 

“Well, well, what do we have ‘ere boys?” A scrawny, dirty man with a patchy beard drawled, eyeing what should appear as a vast open meadow. “What coulda drawn us out ‘ere?”

 

A girl stepped forward, her eyes tightened as she peered straight through Hermione, canting her head back and forth. “I can feel something.” 

 

“Oi, me too.” 

 

Hermione's heart was pounding in her chest as she took shallow, quick breaths. Maybe they should just kill them, take them down before they could do anything else. 

 

The third, from somewhere in the back, tossed a rock towards them and the wards shimmered; for the briefest of moments, a small, fist-sized portion was revealed, and Hermione locked eyes with the scrawny man up front. 

 

The faces of the snatchers lit with glee, wicked smiles curling up their dirt-caked faces. “Let’s go tell the boss. We got ‘em.” 

 

Malfoy, followed swiftly by Theo and Hermione, flung curses towards where they stood. Only Malfoy’s landed on the tall, thin boy who was sliced open, bleeding from his belly halfway inside their ward. Luna crashed into them from behind, followed swiftly by Neville, Seamus, and Remus. 

 

“What happened here?” Remus hissed, turning to stare at the few members of his team gathered here.

 

“It was me,” Malfoy said, his eyes trained on the grass. “I didn’t realize there was a taboo—snatchers arrived and we got one. They know.” 

 

“They know  _ what _ ?” Remus pressed, stepping into Malfoy’s space and looking between the three of them with a lidded glare. 

 

Hermione sucked in a shaky breath and tilted her chin as the first few raindrops fell onto her cheek. “They know we’re here. They left for reinforcements.” 

 

“Hermione?” Luna’s sing-song voice called to her and she turned, finding her friend staring at her boots, covered in fresh blood. “It’s happening.”

 

Remus growled something unintelligible and pointed his wand at the grass. “ _ Expecto Patronum!”  _ Before them a giant wolf materialized, head lifted proud and one paw forward, ready to run. “Tell everyone: Refugee house. Code Black. I don’t know how long but—”

 

In the distance, several loud cracks of Apparition sliced through the air and Hermione’s breath caught at the sight of a small cluster of robed men lining the trees. 

 

“— _ It’s not long enough _ .” 

  
  


**XXXXX**

 

**A/N: Thank you for all your reviews and for following this story to the end. One more chapter and then the epilogue and I will have set you all free from my angsty little rollercoaster.**

 

**Endless love to my Alpha and Beta: MCal and InDreams.**

**Until next time! LK**

  
  



	32. Thirty - Two

* * *

**A/N: Deep breaths, y'all. Here we go.**

**Alpha: MCal Beta: InDreams**

* * *

 

 

A dozen spells crashed against their wards, each one fizzling and weakening their defenses at the onslaught of offensive magic. 

 

“ _Fuck.”_ Remus’ voice was hollow as he watched the field fill with Death Eaters and snatchers. “Women and children to the cellar; there’s no time to evacuate. Hermione—” Remus sought her out, his stare intent. “Ward the hell out of that cellar. No one gets in or out. If anyone even looks sideways at that side of the house, I want them quacking like a fucking duck and turning in circles for an hour. Got it?”

 

“Yes sir.” Hermione nodded, gripping her wand. 

 

Remus stared past her at the group of men and women gathering, his voice dry and strained. “Who else? Who helped you with the wards at the safe houses?”

 

Her mouth fell open, ready to respond that it had really just been her, but Malfoy was stepping forward. “I’ll go with her.” 

 

Remus’ eyes flickered between them for a brief moment before he jerked his chin towards the house. “Be quick about it and get your arses back here. Meet at the north entrance to the house. We’ll have directions waiting for you; the rest of you secure overhead. Wands up; bolster the fuck out of these wards.” 

 

Everyone spread out, wands lifted towards the sky as ethereal blue magic streamed from their wands and reinforced the faltering wards above. 

 

Sharing a look with Malfoy, Hermione turned, offering a small smile to Theo before darting across the lawn. They burst through the door and Hermione found herself face to face with over three dozen frightened women and children staring back at them with worry etched onto their features. 

 

“Hermione, what’s going on?” Layla’s voice rang clear above the rest as she hugged Lizzie and Harry to her side. 

 

“There’s been a—” She faltered, blinking wildly and trying to think of the word. “A breach. There’s been a breach and we need to get you all to safety. There’s a cellar—” 

 

A small girl with dark skin and a serious furrow in her brow spoke up. “I don’t want the bad guys to come back!”

 

“Oh—” Hermione’s chest felt tight as she stared at the survivors; they’d seen horrors she couldn’t imagine and she fell to her knees in front of the tiny girl, clasping her hands. “I don’t either. And I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe, okay? That means I need you to hide in the cellar for just a little while. Then I’m going to come get you and all will be well again, okay?”

 

Malfoy stood tall behind her, pulling out his wand and waving it at a toy chest and a bookshelf, and emptying their contents with a quick flick of his wrist. The items hovered, and with another rotation of his wand, they shrank, then shrank again, and he summoned them to just in front of the girls face. 

 

“Can you bring these down for me?” he asked in a slow drawl, a pale brow arched as he stared down at her. “They’re far too heavy for me.” 

 

The girl’s face softened, awe painted on her features as she stared up at Malfoy. “How’d you do that?”

 

Hermione smiled over her shoulder as he winked in the girl’s direction. “Bit o’ magic. We need you all to move— _now._ ”

 

The women shared looks of apprehension as they began herding the children towards the kitchen and Hermione shared one of her own with Malfoy, mouthing a silent _thank you_. 

 

XXXXX

 

Pressing the door shut, Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed. They had been able to transfigure a few magically lit lanterns and cots, but the magic would die with them. She imagined the lanterns slowly going out and dread twisted painfully in her gut. 

 

After a steadying breath, she lifted her wand, ignoring Malfoy’s presence altogether as she began warding the door with every intricate spell she could summon to the forefront of her mind. Malfoy didn’t speak to her, but she could feel the weight of his stare on her back as he began casting behind her. 

 

After ten minutes of intense casting, her hands fell limply to her side. “ _Please be enough_ ,” she whispered to no one in particular and turned for the lawn. 

 

“Are you okay?” Malfoy asked, his voice quiet and almost similar to the one she’d known in another life. 

 

“No.” 

 

He snorted in a perfectly Malfoy-esque retort and before she’d made it a handful of steps, his hand darted out and wrapped around her elbow, dragging her back into his body. His free hand curled around her neck and she sucked in a shaky breath as his mouth hovered inches over hers; his gray eyes roamed her features for so long that it pained her. “What you said before—it’s rubbish.”

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hermione attempted to pull away gently, rolling her shoulders as guilt and want mixed dangerously inside her. 

 

“Listen to me,” he urged, pulling her tight. She couldn’t fight it anymore—didn’t want to—and she melted into his familiar touch. “There’s not a reality where I don’t want you, Granger.” His voice was transparent, breathy, ghosting over her face as his gaze settled on her parted lips. 

 

“Malf—”

 

His lips crushed against hers, his hands winding around her slender waist and pulling her hard against him. It took a moment, _a breath_ , until her hands were responding, dancing to a song she knew by heart. She roamed his arms, sliding up his shoulders, and curling around his neck as he bent to accommodate her height. 

 

“ _I-missed-you-I-missed-you_ . _Missed-you-so-fucking-much_ ,” he mumbled against her lips, his hands sliding down the curve of her back until they were resting on the swell of her bum and his tongue slipped between her lips.

 

He was everywhere, all at once, and it still wasn’t enough. She could stay here forever, lost in his unending kiss as his fingers tangled in her curls and cradled the base of her skull. 

 

The kiss engulfed her, set her on fire and then, just as quickly, it was extinguished. He pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers, hands resting on her hips. 

 

“It’s okay if it’s Theo. I just needed to kiss you one more time before—”

 

A confession ghosted over her consciousness. _It’s always you._ But she dared not speak it into existence. 

 

She cut him off. “I can’t lose you twice.” 

 

He smirked, an honest to goodness, genuine smirk, and kissed her once more. “How many times do I have to tell you, Granger? I’m not that easy to kill.” 

 

XXXXX

 

They arrived on the lawn breathless, and out of habit or heart, her eyes scanned the area for Theo. She locked on him, his wand trained on the sky, magic pelting against the inner wall of the ward. 

 

Hermione looked back at Malfoy, swallowing a sickly feeling climbing up her throat. “Be safe.” 

 

“ _You_ be safe.” 

 

Hermione retreated, walking backwards as she gave him a cautious smile. “Hey, I'm the one with the crystal clear track record. You? Not so much.” 

 

Responding with another smirk, Draco turned towards where his team was gathered and Hermione felt a piece of her heart go with him. 

 

She joined Theo, clenching her wand as she took the spot next to him and his gaze drifted down to her. 

 

“There you are,” he breathed, relief coloring his words. Hooking his elbow around her neck, he dragged her into him, pressing a firm kiss on her temple. 

 

A wisp of a thought materialized at the corner of her mind. Luna had said something about Theo: what was it? He was… _choking?_  

 

A sudden, heavy reality settled over her and her arms wound tightly around Theo’s waist. “I'm scared,” she confessed as the sizzle of a dissolving ward showered over them in a dusting of magic. 

 

Seamus’ rough battle cry pierced the air and she snapped her head to where he stood facing an army, pounding his wand hand into his chest as the rest of Thunderbird gathered around him. The air was electric, their magics mingling, pushing, and pulling—preparing.

 

“This is it. We've done this dozens of time—it'll be over soon.” The words were meant as a reassurance for her, but the strain in his voice left her thinking maybe it was for him, too. Theo’s gaze was trained over her head, staring at the fray of two unstoppable forces coming together at last. “I love you.” 

 

There was a war inside of her. The truth was that she loved him; she just knew it wasn’t enough. Before she could decide on anything, Seamus’ feral cry yet again filled the air, this one pained instead of impassioned, silencing the last of her confession. 

 

Their faces snapped to the front line, hands falling away from each other as she studied the scene. Seamus was cradling his arm, fresh blood trickling down his thick muscle; the first spell had broken through the ward and hit him squarely in the bicep. 

 

Theo gave her a final look, memorizing her, and then they moved towards the rest of the team, taking their places side by side. 

 

“No masks?” Hermione felt flustered; she didn't have her cloak and she panicked, looking from bare face to bare face. She’d fought with it for so long, she felt naked without it. 

 

“No time.” Remus stalked around them, standing tall at the front of his team. 

 

O’Connor joined him, tying his long hair back and smirking weakly over his shoulder. “If Trueman were here, you know what he'd say? Not for these fuckers. Let your face be the last thing they see before the lights go out.” 

 

His words sent a strange chill winding around her spine and she straightened, practicing small wand movements she now knew by heart at her side as she waited. 

 

Behind the massive army building on the horizon in front of her, a plume of inky magic shot into the ground, erupting in a loud clap as Voldemort materialized. She’d not seen him before, and the decrepit graying of his skin was visible even from this distance. Slanted, crimson eyes fell lazily over his opposition and he curled his wand towards his throat. 

 

Sharp pain splintered through her skull and she buckled under the weight of it, her knees slamming into the damp grass as the rain cloud overhead was sliced open and rain fell in sheets over them. Screams filled the air as her teammates fought back an invisible foe while the walls of their minds were penetrated roughly. 

 

A low, drawling voice filled her consciousness, sending blinding light behind her lids and she could see, hear, _feel_ nothing but Voldemort. “ _Bring forward Harry Potter. End this now and you will be spared. Do not and I will slaughter every last one of you before the moon rises_.” 

 

As quickly as the pain had descended, it lifted again. Hermione’s hands fell to the muddied grass as she sucked in quick, shallow breaths, banishing the chill of him from her body. 

 

“ _This ends today!”_ O’Connor shouted, sending a jolt of adrenaline through her. With the tip of her forefinger, she traced the intricate vine carvings of her wand and she shoved herself to her feet with a quiet snarl. 

 

“The wards drop on Moody's mark; reinforcements fall in behind us. They’re waiting now with Portkeys.” Remus locked eyes with Hermione purposefully before turning to speak to the rest of his team. “Harry and Ron will be kept as far from the battle as possible until we can get him close. Black sparks if you've got eyes on You-Know-Who. O’Connor’s right—this ends today.” 

 

Time passed in slow stretches as the enemy beat down on their ward. She searched their own scarce numbers for that shock of blond and felt her heart settle when she saw him, jaw clenched and eyes trained ahead. 

 

Guilt mixed with bile rose from her belly and she turned to Theo.“Got my six?” she asked weakly. 

 

He responded with a snort and a smirk. “Someone's got to.” 

 

A thought echoed in her head and she called for her friend, “Luna!” Hermione searched for her friend’s face for a clue. “Did you remember the end of your dream?” 

 

Luna swallowed, shaking her head. “‘Fraid not.” Her blue eyes tightened and her gaze flickered to Theo for a moment before returning ahead. 

 

Overhead, green sparks filled the sky and slowly, the ward melted around them, revealing the inadequate army of the Order. It made her stomach roil violently to see the delight etched on the features of the Death Eater army. 

 

Soft puckering sounds of magic came from behind them and she managed a look over her shoulder, her eyes rounding as the field filled with fighters. Centaurs en masse gathered behind them, their hooves stomping proudly into the earth paired with wild rally cries. To their left, men and women with long silver hair, intricate braids hanging loose over their shoulders, appeared abroad the backs of white pegasus’ by the dozen. 

 

House-elves and trolls, goblins, and a few giants filled the empty space, along with more human bodies than she could have imagined. People she’d never seen before; civilians answering the call. 

 

“Where on earth did they all come from?” she breathed, her eyes floating over the reinforcements that may just give them a fighting chance. 

 

“What do you think I do all day, Granger?” Moody gruffed, stepping to the front lines. “Tea parties?” 

 

For the first time _ever_ , she laughed at Moody and his sour disposition. 

 

Silence stretched on as the armies stared at each other, waiting for _something—_ anything. 

 

Moody lifted his walking stick into the air and the tip of it glowed and swirled with a cloud of white magic. He struck it powerfully into the ground at his side and a burst of energy shot forward, knocking the first two rows of snatchers backwards. 

 

A final beat of silence, the world vacuuming for three beats of her heart, and Hermione concentrated on a tingling in her wand arm, focused on all she had lost, all she was at risk of losing today. 

 

And then all hell erupted. The air filled with streams of colorful magic as centaurs rushed into the front lines, chopping down who they could with long jagged machetes and hatchets, some falling back, firing their crossbows into the mass. 

 

The pegasus’ took to the air, flying overhead as their riders rained arrows onto the enemy. 

 

Too suddenly, the first of them went down. Cho fell in a heap as her team struggled to bring up shields, and before anyone could Portkey her out, the first wave of ground fighters crashed into them. The lines blurred, and while the masks of the Death Eaters further back on the fields made their allegiance known, these lower-level fighters looked much like Hermione and her friends. They only difference was that half of them were firing at her. 

 

Quick spells shot from the tip of her wand and mixed with hasty shields and deflections; she desperately needed more time. With just a few extra seconds she could make a difference in their numbers, but with the little she had she managed little more than stunners.

 

“It’s too open,” Theo growled, pressing his back against Hermione’s as they whipped their wands through the air. A boy around their age came too close to her; Theo’s hand shot out, wrapping in his dirty shirt, and threw him unceremoniously to the ground. With a swift kick to the boys' ribs, Theo _Avada_ ’d him with little fanfare. “Let's move.” 

 

Theo dragged her forward and she fought hard to avert her focus from the broken bodies already littering the ground, instead of training her eyes on the threats pressing in around them. 

 

A jet of orange magic whizzed past her ear, singing it with its trail, and Hermione collapsed to the ground, scrambling behind Theo as her fingernails dug into the earth. Water pelted against her body, drenched curls sticking to her face as she climbed to her knees amidst bodies colliding all around her. 

 

She caught sight of Theo fighting just a few paces away, his fist colliding with a man’s jaw before turning to fire a vibrant curse at the next. Watching him fight was magic in itself; he was fluid and determined, almost effortless in his casting. A flash of a memory floated through her mind _—_ a quiet day by the lake as they discussed his Patronus. What had he said about the black mamba? _The most lethal snake in the world._  

 

The sky filled with soft _hoots_ and dozens of owls lead by one snowy owl, and one with long tufted ears and golden eyes, soared overhead. The rain hindered their wings, breaking against them and they all faltered under the weight of the storm; still, they persisted. A small smile bent her lips up as Gofer dipped down towards Theo, breaking away from the rest of the flight. Long talons gripped into a woman’s shirt who moved to strike Theo in the side; the girl fell with a feral cry as Gofer pecked at her face. His glaring, golden eyes searched the field for a moment, before rising—as gracefully as Hermione could recall seeing him—and rejoining the flight. 

 

An apprehensive breath left her and she kicked one foot up to climb to her feet. Suddenly, the air left her in a violent huff as a boot collided with her ribs and she collapsed back onto the ground with a choked gasp for air. Magic tangled and knotted in her belly and she rolled onto her back, lifting her wand towards the faceless man above her and ignoring the boot coming for her jaw.

 

“ _Avada Kedavra!”_ As soon as the spell passed her lips, the light went out in his eyes and he fell in a graceless heap next to her. She swallowed her shock and rolled to her feet, clambering towards Theo who was shielded, his arm bent as his boots slid in the soft mud, barrage of spells pushing him backward. 

 

Hermione’s magic swelled and curled around her. “ _Secare! Ignis!”_ Two men fell, blood pooling instantly from one as the blood of the other heated up until he was dying from the inside out. 

 

“Now who’s got whose back?” she chuckled dryly, pointing her wand at her ribs and casting a pain relief charm. Theo lifted his wand over her shoulder and silently struck someone down. 

 

“Still me.” He smiled. 

 

Around them, chaos thrived and swarmed, swallowing any semblance of order, and Hermione’s eyes caught on the side of the house where a small scuffle was happening, a cluster of Snatchers staring at her ward with a curious brow. 

 

“The cellar,” she breathed. “Let's fall back.” 

 

Theo nodded and they cut through the battlefield, deflecting and firing curses as fast as humanly possible. With an easy flick of his wrist, Theo sent a man flying into the side of the brick house, filling the air with a sickening crunch. 

 

As they approached the cellar, they found Neville and Luna huddled side by side; Luna stood tall, her hands lifted as a wild shield blanketed her and Neville. But there was a tremble to her jaw that was visible from where Hermione stood and before she knew, _she knew._

 

Hermione and Theo wielded relentless magic as she worked her way towards them. Tearing her gaze from the fray where Luna and Neville seemed to be battling for their lives felt impossible; she was distracted. 

 

Hermione ground to a halt as she collided with a snatcher, sending her knee into the side of his thigh and bringing him crashing to his knees. She cast him down easily, sweat dripping down her brow as she searched the horizon for her friends.

 

She watched in horror as Neville stepped beyond the shield; purple magic lanced through his chest, sending him limp to the ground. Luna dropped her shield with a loud cry, and accidental magic burst from her and cut down the men around her. 

 

“ _LUNA_!” Hermione cried, rushing to Neville's side and shaking him roughly, jabbing her fingers into his neck as she ducked spells fired around her. “He has a pulse.”

 

“It's okay,” Luna said quietly, falling to her lover's side and cradling his jaw. “In my dream, I saw him after. He’ll—” Her voice cracked and she shook her pale hair from her eyes. “I think he’ll be alright.”  

 

“ _Wh_ –” Hermione stuttered. “Luna, what are you talking about?” 

 

“Until we meet again, my love.” Bending down, Luna pressed a kiss to Neville's lips, her tears coating his cheeks. She pulled her bag of Portkeys out and wiggled one free, carefully dropping it onto his chest and sending him whirling away from the fray. “Stick close to Theo, Hermione. This is almost over.” 

 

Luna was gone then, sparing her only a single pitying glance as she moved with a practiced finesse and disappeared around the corner of the house. 

 

The lawn around the cellar was quieter than the rest, only a handful of fighters remaining as the fight climaxed in the middle of the field; they were still outnumbered. Hermione gaze lifted, catching the quick succession of black sparks on the far side of the lawn. 

 

 _Harry_. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. One way or another, this was about to end.

 

The rain softened, falling in soft drizzles around her as she wiped frantically at her wet eyelashes. Beyond the haze of adrenaline and a misty, bloodied battlefield, Malfoy stalked towards her, eyes intent only on her as he hurled his magic in lethal, effortless curses. 

 

“ _Granger_!” he cried out for her and she pushed to her feet slowly, levying an exhausted, albeit relieved, breath. She tipped her face to the sky and whispered a silent, thankful prayer to the heavens. Both boys were alive and well next to her, still fighting, still breathing. She had to believe the same for the rest of her friends as well.

 

Between them, her gaze caught on Theo and her brows fell low over her eyes. 

 

She'd left him. 

 

In a panic, she darted towards him in a clumsy, heavy-footed trot. Before she could reach hm, Malfoy was there. The two of them fought, side by side, breaths heavy and exhaustion evident by the slump to their shoulders.

 

Colliding into their backs, she wedged herself between them, taking stock of the area around. There were only a small cluster of fighters left; they appeared young and almost nervous as their wands sparked with black magic. Gritting her teeth, Hermione locked onto one of them, a girl about her age, and began an onslaught to weaken before she could get a final blow. 

 

To her left, Malfoy did the same, his eyes darting towards her as he finally found his opening and _Avada’d_ his opponent with quick ease.

 

But then, everything happened too quickly.

 

Malfoy’s opponent fell lifeless to the earth just as Hermione's attention wavered, and she looked over her shoulder for Theo. The girl she'd been sparring with took full advantage and flung a curse her way, piercing the air with a loud, “ _Secare.”_  

 

Before she could make sense of it, Theo's arm wound around Hermione's waist and threw her to the ground behind them as Malfoy sliced through the remaining two fighters. 

 

Hermione's face was pressed in the damp earth and she coughed out a chunk of grass as she rolled onto her back. The thrumming of adrenaline in her ears waned and she loosed a tight breath. 

 

It was quiet. The sounds of battle were distant and hazy as Harry, hopefully, defeated Voldemort one last time. Just once more. 

 

She blinked a few times as the shadow of a familiar owl swung low overhead, landing a few feet from her in his usual ungraceful thud. 

 

 _“Hoot.”_ Hermione’s gaze darkened and she rolled onto her elbow as she studied the scene before her. Theo was on his back, obstructed from her view by Malfoy fussing over him, and Gofer hovered a few feet away with a serious glare, his feathers surprisingly smooth. 

 

“ _Nott, you stupid fuck_ ! Breathe! Goddamnit. _Breathe, Nott!”_ Malfoy’s voice cracked and she rolled onto her hands and knees, crawling towards them.

 

Theo was there… but everything was all wrong. A clean cut slicing diagonally up his chest, ending at the base of his throat as blood poured from his body, pooling at her knees, and a she stifled a horrified gasp. He smiled up at her, the bloody fool, and coughed up a mess of blood over his chin. 

 

“Theo?” Hermione's voice shook as her hands hovered over his ruined body. “ _Nononono—”_

 

In vain, her hands came down, attempting to push blood back into him somehow. “Why'd you do that?” she cried, her bloodied hands coming up to cradle his cheeks as she inspected his abnormally pale skin. “Theo, you shouldn't have done that!” 

 

“Someone’s—” His head turned to the side as he coughed up a bubble of blood onto the grass. “Gotta watch your—” 

 

“Theo,” she cried wildly, dropping her forehead onto his. “You'll be okay. _Please be okay_.”

 

Everything hurt, anguish and ache coiling and twisting around her heart as her brain faltered with the overload of information. There had to be a spell or… or _something_ , but there was no world that existed where Theo Nott could not. She clenched her eyes shut as reality washed over her in waves and her breath left her shaky little huffs. 

 

The words tumbled past her lips as she swiped a trail of blood over his cheeks with her thumb. “Don't leave me,” she begged, her words catching on sorrowed hiccups. “I love you and I meant to tell you a hundred times. I'm sorry, and you can't just—you can’t just…”

 

Theo's hand came to rest weakly on hers and he gave her a final lopsided smile. “Malfoy,” he managed with a haggard voice, his head rolling towards his mate, eyes flickering and skin greying. “Take care of her, yeah?”

 

Malfoy sucked in a shaky breath and his hand clamped down on Theo’s shoulder. “Rest easy, brother. I'm gonna miss your ugly face.” 

 

Theo tried to laugh but choked on the blood bubbling past his lips as his eyes rolled back. His hand fell away from hers and Hermione cried out, reaching for it again and bringing it to rest over her cheek, uncaring about the bloodied print it left behind. She’d wear it with honor for the rest of her life if it meant that Theo lived. 

 

“Theo?” Hermione's chest shattered as broken sobs erupted out of her and she clawed at him, kissing his face again and again. “ _Don't die, please don't die.”_ She laid her head against his shoulder, whispering only to him, _“_ I can't survive this again, Theo.” 

 

Her pleas fell on deaf ears as his chest stopped moving and his face fell limp to the side. 

 

Angrily, she screamed his name, dragging his face back towards her and wailing for him again and again as she peppered kisses on his unresponsive lips. She didn’t care that Malfoy kneeled next to them. 

 

“ _Please come back,”_  she whispered, knowing the plea felt on deaf ears. Malfoy’s hand came down to rest over hers. 

 

“He's gone, Granger.”

 

She shook her head. “No.” 

 

“ _Hermione.”_ There was something in the timbre of his voice, choked and weak, that caused her to lift her gaze to his. Fresh tears lined the edges of his eyes and he swallowed thickly before speaking again. “He’s gone. Okay? We need to get back—”

 

Her eyes rounded and she flinched away from his touch. “I’m not leaving him, Malfoy! _Are you fucking crazy_?” 

 

There was no doubt that Hermione was reacting irrationally; she was lashing out on the only person who knew the anguish roiling inside her, but she couldn’t find enough proper thought to care. Malfoy’s eyes dipped closed and he took in a long breath through his nose before fixing her with a pointed stare. 

 

“Theo wouldn’t want you to stay here like this—” Something flickered behind his gray eyes and his jaw trembled ever so slightly. “And neither do I.” 

 

She felt a soft nudge to her thigh and through her watery gaze she huffed out a surprised laugh at Gofer’s wide-eyed stare, free of the judgemental edge it usually held. Dropping a hand to his feathers, she clenched her eyes shut. How was she supposed to say goodbye?

 

A long, grieving whimper rippled through her and she pressed another long kiss to Theo’s chilled lips; they felt all wrong. She knew them now, knew the way they favored her bottom lip more and the way they felt in the crook of her neck that always made her giggle. She knew about the birthmark on his shoulder and the way he loved her earnestly and honestly and without judgment. And she knew he was gone, which made this goodbye so much harder than all the rest. This one was forever. 

 

“ _Goodbye, Theo_.” 

 

With a final, fortifying inhale, she pulled back, resting on her haunches as Malfoy procured a Portkey and sent his friend off with a final, sad, mumbled goodbye. 

 

He offered his hand, paired with a low gulp and meaningful stare. She took it, her hand trembling, and rose to stand, averting her gaze to study the blood staining her fingers. 

 

From the front of the house, bursts of fireworks exploded in the sky and Hermione whipped around to study them. No Dark Mark tainted the ominous sky; there was only celebration. Conflicting emotions coiled painfully inside her; hope collided violently with her grief and she felt a blanket of numbness settle over her. 

 

XXXXX

 

As the children filtered from the cellar, their wary faces melting into relief, Hermoine kept her stoic facade. There would be a time to experience the torment of pain building up inside her, but it wasn’t now. She could keep this down; she’d done it before, and even though she desperately wanted to seek comfort in the only person who could know what she was feeling, it felt like a betrayal. 

 

She was doing brilliantly—until Layla emerged, her wide brown eyes searching for Hermione. There must have been something about the tremble in her jaw but Layla seemed to just… _know._  

 

Hermione shoved her way through the women still climbing out and collided with Layla, tears streaming down her cheeks as they clutched one other. 

 

“Not Theo?” Layla’s voice still held that air of hope, thought she likely knew the answer already. Hermione shook her head, clutching Layla to her as if she were the only life vest in a hurricane. “He was a good one, Hermione. I’m so sorry.” 

 

“ _HERMIONE_!” Harry’s frantic voice burst through their embrace and Hermione whipped around, searching the gathering crowd of her friends. 

 

Upon seeing her messy-haired friend, his face caked with dirt and blood streaming down his cheek, there was a brief respite from the pain. Relief and joy flooded her body as she tore through the crowds, crashing into her friend with a sob. Hermione buried her face in the crook of his neck, grateful just to feel his body warm and moving, proof of their victory. Moments later, Ron’s thick arms banded around them both, holding her together, if only for a short time. 

 

“You did it?” Hermione managed through the crushing hug. 

 

Harry let out a hollow laugh and nodded. “It’s over, Hermione. Really, really over.” 

 

They released her and Hermione turned, staring out at her battered friends and the blood covered lawn, her eyes catching on Malfoy at the back of them all. His eyes were intent on her, the color of the storm clouds still looming overhead and the muscles of his throat taut with restraint. Her lips twitched in an almost smile as she crossed the lawn and took the spot at his side.

 

Together they stared up at the heavens, ignoring the lingering looks from their friends. Her shoulder barely brushed his arm and they both swayed away from the touch as cheers filtered across the lawn. 

 

“We won,” Malfoy said dryly, jamming his hands in his trouser pockets. 

 

Hermione’s jaw trembled as her gaze flickered back to the blood-stained grass where Theo had laid. “It cost too much.”

 

“It always does.”

 

* * *

_**Lonely rivers flow** _   
_**To the sea, to the sea** _   
_**To the open arms of the sea** _   
_**Lonely rivers sigh** _   
_**"Wait for me, wait for me"** _   
_**I'll be coming home, wait for me** _

 

_**Oh, my love, my darling** _   
_**I've hungered, for your touch** _   
_**A long, lonely time** _   
_**Time goes by so slowly** _   
_**And time can do so much** _   
_**Are you still mine?** _

_**-Unchained Melody, The Righteous Brothers-** _

* * *

  
  
  



	33. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

 

_5 Years Later_

In all these years, Surrey house had barely changed. The ivy was more aggressive, sprawling up onto the thatched roof and disappearing under its shingles; the rickety porch creaked a bit more than she remembered, but maybe that was due to the extra weight of its visitor.

She paused there, lost in a memory as a soft _hoot_ filled the air. Her lips curled upwards as Gofer crashed into the floor boards with a soft _thud_ before popping to his feet and studying the space around him. 

“That didn’t take you long, ol’ boy. How’d you know I’d come here?”

“ _Hoot.”_

“Am I that predictable?” She chuckled to herself as her owl made a few small hops and then flapped its wings until it was perched on the bannister next to her. 

He’d never left her side after the battle all those years ago. Moody had ordered the return of Order property several times, to which she had politely responded that living creatures were not, and never would be, property, and if he would like the privilege of telling Gofer otherwise, he might be wary of his last human eye. 

She’d had this strange, angry little owl by her side during her darkest moments; he knew her better than most humans did at this point and it felt right that he followed her here. 

With the tips of her fingers, she lightly patted his bristled feathers and moved to make her way in the house. Inside it still smelled like damp cedar and maybe a touch of mildew, which was oddly comforting. The kitchen remained too small, the cabinets still mostly empty, and if she lingered long enough she could still remember how Draco and Theo liked to bicker at the kitchen table over a pile of maps and parchments. 

She moved through the safe house with a quiet reverence. In all her moments of isolation and forlorn grief, she’d come _here_. She had grown here, been broken here, fallen in love here. This was where she had mourned the loss of the great loves of her life and had even had one of them returned to her from the dead within these walls. 

Trailing her fingertips on the knotted walls, she peeked into the larger bedroom that she’d once shared with Draco. The end tables were now dusty and the sheets a dull gray. Then her eyes were drawn to the smaller room across the hall. _Theo._

She could finally smile fondly at his memory, and though it had taken some time, she had come to terms with what he had meant to her in those few short months they spent together.

It was strange to look back now on where it all had begun; it felt like a different life entirely. Nearly six years ago, Malfoy had breathed new life into her, had stoked the fire in her that saw her through the war; and during the wake of his disappearance, she’d shattered. In the stark moments of her desperation and grief, she thought herself to be irreparable, trying to move forward with pieces haphazardly held together. 

Then there had been Theo. He had loved her in all of her ruined brokenness, loved her despite it— _in spite of it._ He had lovingly mended a thousand jagged edges until she was formed into something new and stronger, fortified and resilient. And then, just as quickly as he’d entered, setting her world aflame, he’d gone, leaving her in a blazing glory of protective instinct that had saved her life, at the expense of his. 

She smiled at the fond memory of his Patronus: The Black Mamba, most lethal and protective snake in the world. And he had been, in the end.  

Turning one final time in the quaint, little house, her breath caught as a flood of memories crashed over. There was no separating the happy from the sad anymore; they were woven together into a wonderfully tragic tapestry that she now called hers. 

Outside, a _pop_ of Apparition signaled the arrival of her husband. She knew he’d come eventually and a soft smile bent her lips upward as she folded her hands on the swell of her belly, turning for the front door. 

“Mummy! Daddy Apparated and he knows I hate it!” her son announced as soon as the door swung open, an angry swagger to his step and a scowl that was all Draco on his lips. She chuckled as she held her hand out to him, beckoning him to her side. 

“Yes, but look at you now,” she said with a watery voice, kneeling before him to fuss with his little bowtie and smooth his dark brown hair. “I don’t see any sick on you yet, so it seems you’ve managed alright. Let’s forgive your father this once, yeah?” 

TJ huffed and settled against her chest as Draco appeared in the doorframe, a wry smirk just for her. “How’d I know we’d find you here?” 

“I was coming right back,” Hermione said, pressing her lips into a flat line and rising to her feet. “I just wanted to see if it was still here.” 

Draco’s features softened and he crossed the room, wrapping an encouraging arm around her shoulders and brushing his lips against her temple. “Love, if we didn’t knock these walls down back in the day—nothing will.” 

Hermione choked on a surprised laugh and threw her elbow into his side. Seamus had put together a reunion of sorts for the anniversary at the final battle, just the survivors of the teams who had lived and nearly died together during their time at Canterbury house. But it only took one long look at the large lawns and sprawling country house and she was transported to another time. Against her better judgment, she quickly ran away for Surrey house. 

“Seamus is pissed-drunk already and I think Hannah is gonna skin him alive for it. He and Neville were handling getting the fire together when you’re ready.” Malfoy’s gaze searched hers, his lips downturned slightly as he studied the tremble to her jaw. She couldn’t stop staring at a spot on the sofa long enough to look back at him. 

“Mummy, you okay?” TJ tugged on her fingers and her trance broke. “You’re crying.” 

Swallowing thickly, Hermione turned to her husband, her brows arching up as she asked him a silent question. He answered with a nod and nudged her towards the sofa, where the three of them took clumsy seats, Draco and Hermione turning to face their son. 

His eyes were fiercely blue and his hair the same shade of chestnut that his father’s had been. The first thing Draco had said aloud when he was handed TJ in the delivery room was how much he reminded him of Theo, and how proud Theo would have been to be there too. 

It had been only a week and a half after the battle that Hermione had discovered her condition and she had managed most of her pregnancy alone and in hiding. It took her a long time to realize that loving Draco wasn’t betraying Theo, and that no man on this earth would love their son as Draco would. 

But they’d never told TJ, not really. He was still young after all, not even five. He knew that Draco was his dad, for all intents and purposes, but that he’d had another father too, one he’d never get to meet. Draco hadn’t felt right assuming the title for quite some time, but once little Theo had first murmured _dada_ he was done for. They’d slowly, clumsily, become a family. Painfully, they learned to forgive each other for the hurt they’d caused each other and make new, happy memories again. 

“I wanna go back! James is there and this place smells,” TJ whined with a wrinkled nose and Hermione’s hand rushed out to capture his fidgeting fingers in her palm. 

“We’re going to stay a minute and then we’ll go back. We want to tell you a story, at least part of it, and it all started here.” Hermione’s throat felt tight and impossibly hot as she watched curiosity and disappointment flicker over her son’s features. 

“A story? Like a fairy tale?”

Both Hermione and Draco choked out a laugh and they shook their heads simultaneously. “Merlin, no,” Draco chuckled. “It’s about as far away from a fairy tale as you can get.” 

Theo’s face screwed up in thought. “Does it have a happy ending?” 

“Kind of.” Draco’s hand moved towards her stomach and she felt the flutter of their baby inside her. “It’s the story of my very best friend in the world. He was kinda shy and bookish—”

“Like Mum!” Theo interjected and Draco laughed as Hermione wiped a happy tear from her cheek. 

“Yes, like your mum. He had bright blue eyes and brown hair and was the kindest bloke I ever met. He couldn’t handle his Firewhisky and he saved your mum and me a dozen times over. He was brave and loyal—” Draco paused, clearing his throat as a traitorous tear slipped over his cheek and he wiped it away with his forearm. “It’s the story of your dad, bud.” 

Theo’s brows fell low over his icy blue eyes and he stared back and forth between the two of them for a few long moments. “But you’re my dad,” he stated simply and Hermione felt her heart wring painfully in her chest. 

“Of course he is, love.” At that moment she felt overwhelming love for her family; however mangled things had been in her life before, she had discovered that things were not meant to stay broken. They could always be reformed or rebuilt, and while there would always be a hole in their family that no one could ever fill, Theo’s love laid the foundation for something beautiful to rise. “But you’re lucky enough to have had two dads. And I’m—I’m very sorry you can’t meet him. He was a wonderful man who would have loved you very much.” Hermione’s voice trembled as she forced herself to say the words that she knew her son needed to hear. 

TJ’s lips pulled into a sad pout. “What happened to him?” 

“He saved us,” Hermione managed, choking on the words as tears tracked down her cheeks and dripped onto her pregnant belly. “Both you and me, he just didn’t know you were growing in me yet.”

A long stretch of silence passed as TJ stared at his fingers laid loosely in his lap and finally his blue gaze rose to hers. “Okay. Maybe just one story before we go back?” 

_One_? One wasn’t enough… but it was a place to start and Hermione had always found that to be the hardest part of any story. Endings, well, they always had a way of working themselves out, even the painful ones. 

**THE VERY END.**

 

* * *

 

  

**A/N: Thank you endlessly for following this story. I wish I could say how much it means to me that you've read, reviewed, favorited and cared so much for these characters that have come to mean so very much to me. There is always a sense of emptiness following the ending of a WIP; this is a world I've lived in for so many months and it's strange to say goodbye. But alas, all good things come to an end and so, too, shall this.**

**This story would be a mess without the tender, loving care of my Alpha and Beta,** MCal **and** Indreams **. They've spent hours and hours of their summer polishing and perfecting this so it can be something that I'm truly proud of. If you're not reading their works, I implore you to. They are beautiful, talented women and I'm lucky to call them friends.**

**What should you expect from old LK? I'm working on a short story that I hope will be published in the next few weeks and some smutty things that will pop up. (Psssst, there is a Theo x Hermione x Draco one shot being published in The Restricted Section's Kinktober event! It's also on my AO3 author page as of today! You need a little Theo love, yeah?) So, without further adieu and with my many thanks--**

**Until next time. LK**


	34. Theo Drabble: Yule Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into the night of the Yule Ball from Theo's perspective.

**A/N: One of my lovely readers left a review last night asking for this drabble and my muse was keen on it! It’s not much, but it’s a little something. Hope you enjoy! This is unbeta’d/alpha’d so please forgive any errors!**

 

“There you are, Nott.” Malfoy swept through the room, adjusting his bowtie and robes a final time as he appraised himself in the mirror. “Don’t tell me your wearing that tie.” 

 

Pulling a face, Theo drags the strip of material through his fingers, staring at the tiny golden snitches on the green fabric. He could still remember when his mum had given him this tie. She’d grinned at him, in that mums tended to do, and exclaimed that some day he was going to be the absolute best seeker Slytherin House had ever boasted. That’s all he’d ever wanted, once upon a time. 

 

He hadn’t been aware there was going to be any such type of Yule Ball when he’d returned to Hogwarts this year; he certainly hadn’t thought to bring a proper set of dress robes either. That wouldn’t seem such a problem for most; an owl home should rectify the problem. 

 

But, as he’d learned the hard way a dozen times over, inconveniencing Theodore Nott Sr. did not bode well for young Theo. However, ever since his mum had passed away his every existence proved to be an inconvenience to his father. The elves sent what they could, but the growth spurt that had hit this summer meant that his robes were laughingly short and the tie was one from Christmas dinner when he was seven. 

 

Theo tugged on his trousers, trying to make them longer by sheer will and determination. With an exaggerated sigh and a tilt to his chin, Malfoy turned and pulled out a garment bag from his armoir. 

 

“Just borrow these and don’t fuss on it. I’ve decided on the black but the navy is smart as well.” Malfoy tossed it on the bed next to Theo, gratefully ignoring eye contact as he turned back for the mirror. 

 

“We don’t wear the same size, Malfoy. They’ll be just as ill fitting as these are. Maybe I’ll just skive off; I don’t even have a date.” 

 

Clearing his throat, Malfoy straightedges in the mirror before turning and making his way to the door. “Just try them on, mate. I have a feeling they’ll fit and you’re not skipping off of jack shite and leaving me with Crabbe and Goyle all night, don’t even think about it.” 

 

“You’ll have Pansy,” Theo mumbled from the corner of his mouth, pulling back the corner of the garment bag with a curious tug to his brows. 

 

“Hah! Dont’ make me laugh, Nott. I’d rather be going stag but Pansy Parkinson is a persistent witch. Just—” He paused, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Try on the robes. I’ll see you out there, yeah?” 

 

Theo nodded. “Yeah.” 

 

With Malfoy safely out of their dormitory, Theo lifted the robes from their bag. Malfoy wasn’t lying; the suit fit. It fit perfectly actually, as if it was tailored for him alone. After securing the tie and fussing with the seams, Theo took a long look in the mirror. 

 

The growth spurt had made him lanky, with no actual muscle mass yet to fill him out, he was all broad shouldered and skin and bones. But he liked his eyes, he supposed and the color of the robes accented them nicely enough. Theo dragged a hand through his hair and took a deep, fortifying breath. 

 

Reaching for his wand, his gaze caught on a slip of paper tucked inside the garment bag, seemingly overlooked. 

 

_ Missus Malfoy,  _

 

_ I do hope this set of robes will do; it’s quite impossible to tailor something without proper measurements. Your son’s instructions of a “few inches taller than me” did little help, so my apologies if these are not up to your standards. I’ll be happy to tailor them again if the young man can make it in to the shop.  _

 

_ I’ll have your holiday robes sent within the week.  _

 

_ Happy Christmas, Narcissa.  _

 

_ M. Malkin  _

 

Theo rolled his eyes, tucking the paper into his end table with a snort. “ _ Bloody Malfoy.”  _

 

xXx

 

The Great Hall was always a bit of a show this type of year, but Theo had never seen it done up quite like this. For lack of a better term, it was all quite magical. Malfoy was already sucking on a flash with his arm wrapped around Pansy’s hip whileCrabbe and Goyle were drooling on their shiny black shoes over the pudding display. 

 

A triumphant melody floated through the air and the grand doors swung open. Malfoy detangled himself from Pansy and made his way Theo’s side nudging him in the side as the champions accepted their applause and made their way towards the front. 

 

“How much more smoke do we need to blow up the fools arses. Merlin, I’m getting sick of seeing their faces.” Malfoy’s curiosity betrayed him as he lifted onto his toes and peered around the sixth years standing in front of them. “Who’s that with Krum?”

 

Theo’s matched his stance, catching the back of a witch in light blue robes. “No idea.” 

 

Theo found it nearly impossible to take his eyes off the witch in the periwinkle robes. Krum took the tiny witch in his arms and they began a slow spin, her face coming fully into view for the first time. The blood drained from his face, his lips popping open as he stared at the bright grin of Hermione Granger. 

 

She didn’t look anything like herself and Theo rather liked the way she looked normally. True, she was a bit much with the hair and the upturned nose, but her eyes were a lovely shade of chocolate and her lips made a pretty pout when she was frustrated. Theo Nott knew more about the Gryffindor than he cared to admit; he knew she liked to suck on sugar quills when she studied late in the library and that her favorite seat was that dusty little armchair in the back. He was fairly certain that she didn’t take breakfast, as she more often than not popped in to catch a piece of toast between her teeth before scurrying off. 

 

But this girl wasn’t the same; her curls weren’t riotous, they were tamed and pushed over her shoulders, exposing the soft curve of her shoulder. She’d gone and painted her eyelids and lips and the dress she’d chosen had displayed her delicate frame beautifully. She looked like she’d stepped out of a dream and Theo groaned inwardly that he hadn’t just plucked up the gall to introduce himself and ask her to the ball himself. 

 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it, because, Merlin, he had. It was all he could bloody think of for weeks but the witch had no idea he existed. No matter that they shared classes several time a week; he was just Malfoy’s lanky friend. Another crony. 

 

“Morgana’s tits—” Malfoy clapped a palm on his shoulder, tearing him from his reverie. “Is that Granger?”

 

Theo swallowed. “Yeah.” 

 

Malfoy took a moment, seeming to appraise the witch with a curiuos glare. “She’s fit.”

 

Unwelcome jealousy bloomed in his belly and he winced before nodding his agreement. 

 

Krum pulled her closer and bile climbed up his throat. Theo Nott had a rather terrible streak of bad shite happening to him; but seeing his dream girl in another man’s arms topped the list. 

  
  
  
  
  



	35. Draco Drabble: The First Time After

**A/N: Why hello! I started this drabble a while back for Nancy M and finally got around to completing it! Forgive the errors, it’s unread by anyone but me. Some lemons ahead, friends and thank you for continuing to rec and love this story. It means more than you could ever know!**

 

“No amount of warming charms are going to keep us warm through the winter, Granger.” As if on cue, the wind howled outside, blowing through the slats of the house and earning a shiver from them both. 

 

More than a year had passed since he’d fallen in love on this lumpy sofa, and despite the many cushioning charms, the springs still pushed up into his arse and he still sat across from the same tired-eyed, wild-haired witch. 

 

When he looked at her, it was still so easy to see the girl he’d fallen for all those months ago. But she wasn’t; at least not completely. There was a line between them that they never crossed—never broached. 

 

That line was Theo Nott; too often Draco’s gaze would travel towards the empty armchair and wonder what life would look like with the three of them. Certainly not like this. Perhaps Theo would have done better. Hell, who was he kidding,  _ of course, _ Theo would’ve done better. 

 

Theo was the better bloke through and through. 

 

After the last of the blood had been cleared from the battlefield, Granger had up and disappeared. Well, not really; everyone knew where she was...  but she refused to see anyone. That blasted bird kept guard on the railing of the porch day and night, tufting it’s wild feathers and hooting at anyone who came close. The insufferable little animal had actually taken a swipe at him one night when he tried to approach. 

 

_ Four months. _ That’s how long he had to wait to see her again; he’d imagined the reunion a thousand times. The way she’d feel in his arms and all the ways he’d make amends. All they’d needed was time, he assured himself night after night, fingers splayed across a cold pillow.

 

But when he pushed past Gofer’s protests and found her with a soft swell in her normally taut belly, he’d been rooted to the spot. And then a dozen times after that Draco was bloody sure he couldn’t handle it. Hell, he was still a kid himself, and now he was adopting his ex-girlfriends and best friend’s love child?

 

 Oh. And his best friend was dead. 

 

Somewhere along the way, it all got fucked but every time he thought about walking out the door, something kept him there. If he left, he knew it’d be the last time. 

 

In the months that followed, there was no romance; there was also no fighting, which was so unlike them. At times he wondered how they’d ever get back. But then, when she was nearly nine months pregnant, he’d broached the topic of taking her somewhere better to labor and she’d snapped.

 

They’d fought and screamed, finally going hoarse as they shouted over each other, laying out their transgressions and accusations. 

 

When the final echoes of their screams faded away two truths remained: Granger had slept with Theo. Malfoy had walked away. 

 

There was no trust, not a shred between the two of them and as much as he wanted to be there, he was at a loss at how to fix the whole mess of it. 

 

When little Teddy was born, things got better. Draco had a purpose,  _ a plan _ . He’d take care of his best mate’s legacy the best way he could, even if that meant a platonic relationship with the girl he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop loving. It was hard to be an unjustifiable arse when that little babe was in his arms; chestnut hair and blue eyes, the ends just starting to curl like his mum’s. 

 

Jealousy was thick and bitter on his tongue but he fought through it. He stayed.  _ He showed her that he could stay. _

 

Theo had always been more patient, unfailingly kind and thoughtful to everyone he encountered. He was as loyal as a man could get and Draco was fucking exhausted living up to a ghost. 

 

But then TJ had reached up, wrapping his little fist around Draco’s finger and all had been lost. A desperate little breath escaped him and he pressed a kiss to the infant’s forehead, only distantly aware of Granger watching from the doorway. 

 

The ice soon melted and spring brought hope for the new things. There were times that she looked at him and it would still lance through him as though all those months had never passed. She’d dance with TJ in the dingy little kitchen and sing in a low, off-key voice and it took all his strength to hold back, not to cross the small space and just take her in his arms.

 

She wasn’t ready; she might not ever be. Living proof of the harsh realities of war and it’s aftermath lived in these walls. They had breath, a pulse. 

 

They stayed through the summer, lingering glances turning to brushing fingers and quiet laughter. And when the leaves turned crisp and fell dead and lonely to the ground, Draco realized what another winter would do to them in this house. 

 

But she wouldn’t leave—couldn’t. 

 

As much as Draco wanted to deny it, Theo hadn’t been someone to keep her bed warm. She’d fallen in love with him. There’d been a glimmer of hope that no matter what had happened, Hermione would have chosen Draco in the end; but that was  _ before. _

 

Before the pregnancy. Before he’d  _ died _ . 

 

“I just don’t know where else we’d go. This has been home for so long now…” Plucking at the threadbare throw draped over her legs, brows pinched and eyes pained, Draco’s heart lurched for her. 

 

“What do you want with me, Granger? Do you want me to help you? I will. Whatever is mine, consider it yours. Do you want a partner? I’m that too. Because, I’m at my wit’s end, love. I don’t know what to do and I can’t stay here haunted by—” they both sucked in a hard breath, their gazes locking. “By him,” he choked, gulping down the bile fighting it’s way up his throat. 

 

In a startling turn of events, she shifted, fingers reaching for his and squeezing gently. “Sometimes I feel like if I love you, I’ll be betraying him.” 

 

The confession sat heavy, pressing in the air around them and he scooted across the cushions, ignoring the spring in his arse and pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you, still. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. But if it’s not what you—”

 

He was silenced as her lips sought out his, pressing gently in a tentative kiss they’d shared a hundred times—but far away, in another life. Hell, it hadn’t even had been like this the first they’d snogged. It’d been forbidden and dangerous, tongues and teeth meeting again and again until they were breathless. 

 

The kiss was drenched with their nerves, his lips freezing under hers and panic swelled in his chest as she winced and started to retreat. Not when they’d finally gotten this far. His mouth chased after hers, catching her bottom lip and sinking his fingers into her curls. 

 

She gasped sharply against his mouth and he didn’t wait to explore between her lips all over again; each brushing of their tongues was fresh and feral, and as if in flesh memory, he leaned her back against the lumpy sofa, nestling between her thighs. 

 

Merlin, he’d missed her. Missed the way her knees knew how to hitch over his hips and her back would arch ever so softly towards him—pulling, pleading,  _ promising _ —until he was so utterly lost in her that nothing else made sense. 

 

Grinding his hips into her, pressing his cock against the seam of her denims, he kissed her like it was him dying. Like this might be the very last kiss, because fuck it all, but sometimes, there were last kisses. She whimpered against his lips, fingers threading through his overgrown hair and pulling him impossibly deeper. 

 

For a few moments, he could pretend that she’d always been his. Their clothes were quickly divulged, denims ripped from her long creamy legs and the fabric of her bra shoved aside; he never stopped moving, stopped  _ memorizing,  _ moving with practiced ease, reading each other in that way that only seasoned lovers know. 

 

And with a quick shuffle, Draco was seated, Hermione straddling his lap, knees pressed against his hips. Burying his face between her breasts, which were heavy and far fuller than he remembered, she keened and bucked, rising up so he could skim her entrance. 

 

But just as she began to sink down, swallowing his member, his hands flew to her bum, slowing her as he peered through a thick fringe of lashes at her. He knew what this meant for him—what she’d always mean to him—but he wanted to make sure she knew too. 

 

A coy smile bent her lips and she cradled his cheeks in her tiny palms. Her chocolate eyes—freckled with amber and honey, and suddenly misty—locked on his before she dipped her mouth to his. That was her answer, then. 

 

His palms slid up her sides, testing the weight of her breasts before brushing the pad of his thumb across her nipple. Slowly, so slowly he was sure his cock might fucking explode in anticipation, she sank onto him. 

 

_ Fuck. _ Had sex always felt  _ this _ bloody good? 

 

Her first few movements were tentative, still gently bucking, rising and falling, but when the tips of his fingers curled into the thick flesh of her bum and his teeth nipped at her neck, she returned. 

 

It would be a grave error to assume that he was the dragon in their relationship, it was always her. Fiery and strong, unyielding and unstoppable; in the throes of passion, she lost herself. Merlin, it was something to see; Hermione Granger in her unbridled lust, bouncing and rocking and cursing under her breath. Over and over, his name slipped over her lips reverently, as if she was sure she’d never say it in this capacity again. 

 

He should probably be a more active participant, but he was entranced by her, hands strong at her hips as he guided her down again and again. The walls of her sex quickened and clenched, and he quickly sought out her clit, making quick, small circles until she was falling apart around him, jaw dropped and eyes pressed shut. 

 

His own orgasm coiled tight and deep in his belly as he watched her. With a few hard thrusts into her, he was spent, spilling inside her as every synapse and fiber of his being fizzled. Crushing her body hard into hers, their breathing synched. His lips brushed along her shoulder, kissing his way through the constellation of freckles smattered there and she laughed lightly, pulling back to stare at him. 

 

“Something funny, Granger? You shouldn’t laugh after sex you know, might give me a complex.” Finding the ticklish spot between her ribs and hip, he poked a few times as she fell off his lap and back onto the sofa with a laugh.

 

A soft cry sounded from the room down the hall and they both froze. He could sense the guilt rippling through the air, naked on a lumpy sofa with her— _ their— _ baby in the next room. 

 

“I’ll get him,” he rushed, jumping to his feet and pulling up his denims without bothering with his pants. “And when he’s back down, we’re talking about this and this fucking shack. Deal?” He smirked down at her, grabbing the throw and tossing it over her body, reveling in the bright grin that tugged at her cheeks. 

 

“Deal.” 

 

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! I have a few more idea’s for drabbles that I’ll pick away at the muse allows! Would love to hear from you!**

 

**Oh! And come listen to our podcast Wine, Wands, and Waffling! We’re all over the place on FB, Tumblr and Twitter and you can find us on Google, Spotify, and Apple Podcasts. We dissect fics and talk with all your favorite authors! I’ve also had a request to do an episode on Unchained so expect that in the coming months.**

 

**Until next time! LK**


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